


Sonata in G, Mvt II

by Cantoris



Series: Sonata in G [2]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Family Drama, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Growing Up, Teenage Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 13:23:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 43,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1984557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantoris/pseuds/Cantoris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The continuing story of Rachel Gideon. On top of a potential boyfriend, girl drama, music, and homework, Rachel deals with the growing complications of her father's job, and later, faces the greatest trial she could imagine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Overture

Related Episode: 2.2 P911

Overture-a piece of orchestral music containing contrasting sections that is played at the beginning of an opera or oratorio, often containing the main musical themes of the work

It was so strange that an object smaller than my hand could impart such power, responsibility, and a sense of freedom, simply by existing. I didn't notice the breeze on my face, whipping through my long hair except when my vision was blocked by brown strands.

"Rachel?"

I had forgotten for a second that Dad was standing next to me. I looked up at him for a second, and then back down to the card I was holding. More than half of it was covered by text; a long string of numbers, my full name, birth date, the color of my eyes—blue—height and weight. I was an organ donor and no vision impairments. The second half of the card displayed my most recent picture, eyes wide and the beginning of a smile on my face.

I was now a proud owner of a driver's license. Hit the road, burn rubber, and eat my dust, baby.

And then Dad had to bring me back to reality. "Remember, there are still restrictions until you're eighteen and I have a few of my own rules. Absolutely no texting or talking on your phone while driving. You cannot have more than one other person under the age of eighteen in your car and I don't want you driving anyone but me and your mom until Christmas. The county curfew is eleven pm but for this year, I want you home by ten. You can have your music on, but if it becomes distracting, then just turn it off. I don't mind you driving on highways, but don't go on the interstate unless you're with your mom or me for awhile yet. Rachel, are you listening to me?"

I sighed. "Dad, you've been telling me this for months. Can't I have one moment to celebrate the fact that I can legally drive?" I complained.

I did my best puppy dog expression and Dad smiled. He gave me a big hug and squeezed before letting me go.

"Of course I'm happy for you. You've worked very hard this summer and you've been very mature about this so far. You aced your written and driving tests and I'm proud of you."

Dad doesn't say that he's proud very often. I got a little choked up and then looked at my license again to clear it up.

"And my picture isn't even that bad."

Dad laughed. The car keys were still in my hands, so he just gestured me to the car, indicating that I could drive us home. Maybe someone else would have been intimidated, learning to drive an SUV or taking it for the final driving exam, but I had been practicing all summer in it along with Mom's Suburban, so size was not an issue for me.

"Can we get some ice cream to take home?" I asked.

"You're the driver," Dad said, smiling at me again.

I had just pulled out of the parking lot when Dad's phone rang.

"Hotch? All right, how soon does she want to get started?" I stared ahead but I felt Dad glance at me and away quickly. "Call the others, I'll be there in a half hour to work on the preliminary profile before Katie gets here."

Dad hung up and spoke to me. "Pull over as soon as you can."

He didn't say anything else besides that, and sadly, he really didn't have to. Dad had a case and would probably hurry me home and then head to the Academy in Quantico where his team was based. I pulled into a restaurant's parking lot and put the car into park. Dad and I switched seats and I sulked.

"Rachel, I need to go straight to Quantico," Dad finally said, taking the exit to get on the highway. "It would take too long to take you home first."

I stared at him, wondering if I was understanding correctly.

"Luckily, you can now drive yourself home once we get there," Dad continued with a small smile for me.

I fought smiling for awhile because Dad was essentially leaving me to fend for myself, but it was also the fact that he was encouraging me to drive myself home for the first time ever. I guess they balance out.

"So, what's going on?" I asked.

Normally, I would get a text or a call from Dad whenever he got a case. He would tell me where he was going and a little bit about what he and the team thought they would be facing once they got there. But it wasn't often that Dad got called away while I was right with him, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to ask this time.

Dad was quiet for a long time, so I knew he was trying to figure out how much to tell me. It used to be he wouldn't tell me anything, but that led to me looking up his cases on my own. Now we have an agreement where I can ask and Dad would try to answer but he still reserved the right to keep me in the semi-dark.

"There is a little boy who we think is being held captive by a very bad man," Dad finally said. "One of our old team members in Maryland is asking for our help in finding him before he gets moved and we lose him."

I processed that for a minute and decided to push my luck. "What kind of bad man?"

Dad faces the worst kind of criminals that exist, so I knew when he said bad, it was really bad.

Dad focused on the road in front of him. I watched the mile markers count down for a mile and a half before he said, "He's a pedophile, Rachel."

I swallowed, trying not to shudder. Maybe other teenage girls out there know about the kinds of bad men out there, but none know it better than I do. However much I sometimes resent his especially strict rules, I know he has them for very good reasons.

"It's why I don't like you talking online in chatrooms and why I don't want you to have your own computer yet," Dad explained.

"What do chatrooms have to do with this case?" I asked.

"Katie Cole heads the Crimes Against Children unit, mostly working online looking for predators and victims," Dad explained. "We know about this boy because one of her agents found a new picture of him online getting passed around chatrooms."

"Oh," I said. It was all I could think to say. I wasn't one for chatting online to begin with so I had never had an issue with Dad's rules about it. I hadn't ever questioned it but now I knew why anyway.

Ten minutes later, we were pulling into the visitor parking spaces at the FBI Academy in Quantico.

"I need you to come in with me so I can give you my spare set of keys," Dad said, undoing his seatbelt. "I need to take these with me."

I had never stepped foot inside the building before. Dad strongly believes in the separation of work and home. Of his entire team, I've only met two members and that's only been a recent development compared to the last eight years.

Dad grabbed his duffel bag out of the trunk which I knew he kept full and available for days like this when he doesn't have time to go home and pack before leaving. One of the team members I knew was Dad's recruit, a genuine genius Spencer Reid. Dr. Spencer Reid with three doctorates and he's less than ten years older than me which really shows how smart he is. Dad's been bringing Reid around for years for chess games and meals and Reid was the one to explain the "go bag" to me.

I followed behind Dad as we walked through the front door and stopped at the desk manned by security guards in uniform.

"Agent Gideon," one guard greeted us, throwing a significant glance in my direction.

"Officer Hughes," Dad said, writing my name on a sign in sheet. "I need a visitor's pass for my daughter, Rachel. She needs my spare keys to drive herself home. She'll be coming out in about fifteen to twenty minutes."

"Right away," Hughes said, smiling at me warmly. Seconds later I had a laminated card clipped to my shirt.

"I wouldn't think I'd need a pass for a quick trip," I commented as we rode the elevator up.

"Every visitor needs a pass, Rachel, for security," Dad explained. "No exceptions."

"Okay."

As we exited the elevator, I realized that I was watching Dad transform into work mode. His face was different, much more closed off than I was used to. He was walking with more force and urgency. It was a little unsettling.

From Reid, I knew the main portion of the floor was called the bull pen where most of the agents had desks, up to twenty all interconnected into rows. There was a set of stairs that went up to a walkway where a series of offices were located like a second level. Along the walkway were several vertical windows, letting in the mid afternoon light. Again, from Reid, I knew that's where Dad had his office as well as their unit's leader, Aaron Hotchner who as the other member of the team that I've met before.

I saw Reid at his desk as we walked past and after getting over the shock of seeing me, Reid smiled and gave a small wave. I waved back but hurried to keep up with Dad as he strode up the stairs.

Dad's office wasn't much of a surprise. His desk was semi-cluttered with files and papers, though I spotted two framed photographs, one that must be my half-brother Stephen and the second was of me. Most of the room was dominated with bookshelves, and there was a comfy looking, two-seater couch with a coffee table. What was unexpected was the table directly opposite of Dad's desk, filled with framed pictures. Each picture was a portrait of someone I didn't recognize.

"Dad, who are those people?" There were men, women, boys, girls, all ages and races, at least fifty or sixty.

Dad looked up from his desk drawer, presumably looking for the spare set of keys. He saw me looking at the pictures and dropped his work mode for a moment.

"Those are the people from cases that we saved," Dad said. "I keep them here to remind myself why I do this job."

I hoped that the picture of another little boy would soon be added.

"All right, here they are." Dad came around from the desk and handed me the spare car keys. "Now, take the highway back home, but wait for the exit at Willow."

"Dad, I know the way home."

He hadn't returned to work mode yet, so Dad smiled, brought his hand to my neck and pulled me in close to kiss the top of my head. "I love you, Rae. Now go home."

"I love you, too, Dad. Catch the creep."

I turned to walk out and bumped right into Hotch on his way in.

"Jason, Katie is still an hour away—Rachel, what are you doing here?"

I held the keys at face level and gave them a gentle shake so they sounded like wind chimes. "I was along for the ride, but Dad had to get me the spare keys so I can drive myself home."

"Oh, you got your license today?"

I grinned. "Piece of cake."

"Congratulations," Hotch said with a smile before turning to Dad. "Jason, Morgan's on his way up, but we can get started."

"I'll get out of your way," I said and snuck around Hotch through the door.

"Drive safe, remember what I said—"

"Got it, Dad."

I hurried down the stairs and veered off to Reid's desk where he was gathering files into his battered leather messenger bag.

"Hey, Rachel. Were you with your dad when he got called in?"

"Yeah. And at least I was able to get my license before so I can drive myself home."

"You did? Congratulations. You know, twenty four percent of teenage drivers—"

"Reid," I interrupted. "We talked about this."

"Right. Sorry."

For the most part, I actually didn't mind when Reid would ramble about statistics. A lot of it is more interesting than other people think and I love when he can help me with my school work. But I didn't want to hear horror stories about car accidents, teenage drivers, and traffic patterns.

"Hey, pretty boy."

I looked up and saw probably the hottest man I've ever seen walking toward us. He was tall, dark-skinned, and muscled with a shaved head.

"And a pretty girl," he remarked, coming up to us. I blushed and looked down at my feet quickly before looking up again. Just because I was overwhelmed, I didn't want him to know that.

"Morgan, this is Gideon's daughter, Rachel," Reid introduced. "Rachel, this is Derek Morgan."

"Nice to meet you," I said quietly, reaching out to shake Morgan's offered hand.

"Very nice to meet you, sweetheart," Morgan answered. "I hear you're a talented little musician."

I blushed again and shrugged.

"Rachel!"

I looked up and saw Dad and Hotch standing on the elevated walkway. Dad was frowning—work mode was back.

"I'm going, I'm going," I called up. I turned back to Morgan and Reid. "Sorry, but I should probably go."

"Yeah," Reid agreed with a quick look up at Dad. "We should head up to the conference room."

"Next time I see you, I'll give you the tour," Morgan offered with a melting smile.

"Okay," I said shyly.

With one last wave from Reid, a wink from Morgan, a curt nod from Hotch and a final glare from Dad, I was left alone. I got a lot of looks walking on my own and riding the elevator down, but no one questioned me, probably because of the visitor's pass. At the front desk, I turned the pass over to Officer Hughes.

"You drive safe now, all right?"

"Yes, sir," I said smartly, giving a little salute and smiling.

I put in the CD I had of Vivaldi's Four Seasons, mindful of my speed, mirrors, and signaling. The rest of my first unaccompanied drive was uneventful. It was at the same time exhilarating and disappointing. I was utterly alone in the car, neither of my parents or my instructors next to me, giving commentary or criticism. But, really, as fun as it was and as thrilling as it was, I was too distracted to enjoy it fully.

There was a little boy at the mercy of a pedophile somewhere. Sometimes, I really hated how Dad's job took the fun out of everyday things. It wasn't Dad's fault and it certainly wasn't the little boy's. It just sucked for all of us.

I parked in the driveway at home and locked the car before walking inside. Mom was at work, but in a spirit of confidence had left a congratulatory note for me on the kitchen counter. I whipped out my cell phone and called my friend, Alicia, to tell her the good news.

"That's great!" she squealed. "This is so cool, you can drive us to the movies or the mall, school—"

"Alicia," I interrupted. "Before you start selling me like a taxi driver, remember I can only take one other teenager with me at a time."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But Liz is getting her license next month so that's four of us."

"You have a point. Now, do you want to come for a ride?"

"God, I wish I could, but Mom's pulling the family activity day card. I'm stuck."

"All right. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Absolutely. We can go to the mall and you can drive us!"

I hung up with a sigh. I was resigned to an afternoon alone when I remembered someone else I could call. Michael picked up on the third ring.

"Have you joined the ranks of the road warriors?" he asked and I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Of course I did. You managed so it's not like it's hard."

Michael and I have only been friends for a year. He's a loner, thought to be trouble with a capital T because he dresses like an emo punk with one of the worst attendance records of our grade to still be passing his classes. Rumors said he cut classes to smoke and do drugs. In reality, Michael was as clean as I was and cut classes in order to do homework for other classes. He worked after school in a car repair shop, earning money under the table so that he could move out of his dad's house once he turns eighteen.

"You wound me. And right now I'm looking at a little cruiser I was thinking of fixing up for you."

"What?"

I was Michael's only friend, he says because I don't judge him. None of my other friends understood it.

"Just kidding, the wreck I have in mind will take years of fixing and I was hoping to keep it for myself. Leonard's letting me borrow one of his project cars until then."

I shrugged even though Michael couldn't see it. "Any way, Dad's on a case and Mom's at work so I'm abandoned for the day. Are you working?"

"Not today. I maxed out my hours this week. Want me to come over?"

"I'll make dinner, you bring those DVD's."

"Deal. I'll be there in a half hour."

We never hung out at Michael's house because of his dad. Pat Garrett was a drunk and a creep according to Michael. Even if Michael thought he was on a job as an electrician, he never knew when his dad would come home, so he didn't ever chance it.

And we only hung out at my house when I was certain both my parents were gone for hours. Dad doesn't approve of Michael—just a little misunderstanding about a bomb-making website—and Mom isn't such a fan either. During the school year, this wasn't a problem and over the summer, we worked things out. Luckily, Michael was actually older than most kids in our year since he had taken two years of kindergarten so he already had his driver's license. Without it, we would have had issues.

I got out the panini grill I had gotten for my birthday. We had some crusty Italian bread and I grabbed the roast beef and cheddar cheese out of the fridge. Sweet potato fries went into the oven to start cooking. By the time Michael was pulling up, the sandwiches were grilled and the fries ready.

"Let's see it," Michael said, holding a hand out expectantly.

I handed over my license and got two Cokes out of the fridge.

"Oh crap, your picture is hideous." Lucky for Michael, he was smirking so I knew he was joking.

I smacked him on the shoulder and then handed him his plate and his drink before grabbing the license and putting it back in my pocket.

After some more joshing and pushing, we ended up on the couch watching the DVD's of Dragonball Z that Michael had brought. I was considered fairly geeky among my other friends, mostly due to Reid's influence in my life, but Michael was corrupting me more. In addition to the Star Trek, Star Wars, and Doctor Who that Reid had me hooked on, Michael added Marvel and DC graphic novels and anime.

Michael left about an hour before Mom was supposed to be home to play it safe. Mom came home tired after a long day but still gave me a big hug. The next day, I drove myself and Alicia to the mall to meet up with some of our other friends. A day after that, Dad came home from the case. They had found the boy and reunited him with his mother. Another picture was now in Dad's office of another life saved.

Other teenage girls worried about school, boys, acne, their weight. In addition to the usual worries, I got to worry about Dad chasing serial killers, rapists, and pedophiles. Even with all the bad stuff, I knew I was lucky. I have two loving parents and great friends of all kinds. Sure I probably knew more about psychopathic killers and disturbed predators than any one wanted me to know, but I also got to hear about ordinary people who were helped by my dad and his team of profilers.

My life, such as it is. And while I wished I could change certain parts of it—who wouldn't?—it was mine.


	2. Tension

Related episode: 2.3 The Perfect Storm, 2.5 The Aftermath

Tension-the phenomenon of inducing an unsettled feeling in the listener until resolution occurs, for example: dissonance 

After awhile, I stopped thinking of it as a body, an actual, former living thing, because to acknowledge that might make it worse. Pale flesh lay before me and I could still remember how the body had looked before it had been cut up. I was surprised there was so little blood.

"I cannot believe that you're doing that without gloves on," Alicia complained, pinching her nose shut against the lingering smell.

"It's a squid," I said. "No different from preparing calamari."

Yes, it was dissection day in biology and apparently, squid is cheaper than frogs. The amphibians were saved for the AP students since there were fewer of them than us. The rest of us got to practice our sushi making.

Alicia shuddered again. She was taking biology again, after failing the year before. Somehow, her parents had managed to get her into the same class as me in the hopes that she would actually pass this year.

"What did you do before?" I asked. In the months that we had been lab partners, that's how we would work: I'd ask what she had done the first time around, figure out what was so hard for her to get, and then work it through with her.

"Same thing I'm doing now," Alicia answered, which is to say, nothing, still eyeing the piece of seafood with disgust.

"Well, that's probably why you got a low score on the lab," I pointed out as gently as I could. Alicia has been my best friend since I moved to Virginia in grade school, but she's not a great student, even worse when she hates the subject. So far, biology has been a subtle battle between us for me to help her without doing the work for her which is what she wanted me to do.

Luckily, I just followed my own tutor's example by walking or talking Alicia through a process once, then having her do it herself. Then again, I'm lucky because I've got Reid as my tutor when I need it and he's got three PhD's.

"Come on, I'll get the pen and ink sac out and then you can write at the bottom of the page," I cajoled, feeling around the squid's body for the tip of its pen, the plastic-like piece that was the closest thing to a skeleton that a squid has.

Alicia shuddered again as I worked the ink sac off to the side and held the pen out for her. I was reaching the limit of my patience with her squeamishness. Finally, she put a glove on her hand and took the pen from me. She punctured the ink sac, letting out a bit of a girly squeal, and wrote her name at the bottom of our lab worksheet. I added my own name and then took our tray to the trash to dispose of the remains.

I was washing my hands thoroughly in one of the huge sinks lining the back of the room when another person came up beside me.

"That was interesting."

I looked over and saw Mark Amborn standing next to me, peeling a glove off of his hand. Mark is almost six feet tall, brown hair and brown eyes, a runner's physique, and he plays saxophone in band. Basically, he was one of the hottest guys in our year and for some reason, he was attracted to me. We had been flirting for almost a year, secretly for most of it, because Dad would have freaked out. Now that I was sixteen, we were allowed to go on actual dates. I still hadn't officially told Dad and I really didn't want to. He would still freak out.

"It was interesting," I agreed, soaping up again. I would have band later in the morning and there was no way I was touching my flute with fishy smelling hands.

"I was thinking of going hiking this weekend before it gets too cold," Mark said with a smile. "Want to come?"

"Just the two of us?" I asked and raised my eyebrow.

"Well, if you can get your mom's car and drive us, it could be," Mark suggested.

I smiled back. "I'll ask."

Mark reached out to run his fingers through my hair, twisting until his hand was tangled. If we had been out in the hallway, he might have kissed me full on the lips, but not while we were in class.

The bell was about to ring and I still had to organize my notes from the day. I flicked some water at Mark's face, startling a laugh out of him and he untangled his hand.

"I'll call you later tonight," I said as he followed me back to my lab table. Alicia watched us approach with a teasing smirk. She thought it was hilarious that I had a boyfriend and she didn't since she was the more outgoing of the two of us.

"I can't wait," Mark replied, leaning in to give me a quick peck on the cheek before returning to his own table for his books and notebooks.

The shrill bell brought me back to myself—I sometimes still got a little floored whenever Mark kissed or touched me—and gathered up my things quickly.

"You two are so adorable," Alicia commented.

I rolled my eyes. Alicia left me to go to advanced algebra while I went to my locker to drop off my bio stuff, get my flute, music, and my books for French. The rest of my day passed with the usual classes, note taking, teenage angst, and so on. After school, I waited outside despite the dropping temperatures for either Mom or Dad to pick me up. I knew that Dad was coming back from a case because he had sent me a text during the day. Sometimes, it would be just like any other parent picking up their kid at school. Sometimes, it was just bad.

This was going to be one of the bad days, I could tell. Instead of waiting in the car, Dad parked and walked to meet me on the sidewalk. Soon, I was encased in a bone-crushing hug as Dad reassured himself that I was okay while he tried to keep his composure.

"Dad, what happened?" I asked, squeezing back.

"A bad case, Rae, that's all," Dad said quietly, pulling back a second later. Then, without looking at me, he stalked off to the car, clearly expecting me to follow. It must have been a really bad case then.

I didn't say anything while Dad drove because I didn't want to chance him getting distracted. True to his usual completely freaked out post-case ritual, he followed me inside the house, now watching every move I made as if I would disappear if he took his eyes off of me for a second.

"Do you want some tea?" I asked, getting out two mugs without waiting for an answer. As a little kid, I hadn't understood what Dad was doing when he would get like this. I thought it was annoying having him hover so closely. Over the years, I've come to realize in addition to Dad wanting to know that I'm safe, he wants to be reminded that life goes on after cases end.

I put one sugar into the mug with Earl Grey for Dad and put two into mine with Chai tea. I poured hot water into both, waiting for the sugar to dissolve and the tea to steep. I handed Dad his mug, keeping my own and then walking out to the living room couch. We sat next to each other.

"Can you tell me what happened?" I asked softly when I couldn't stand it any longer.

Dad brought his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "The girls were your age. I won't tell you what was done to them."

I felt my whole body go cold, even my hands holding onto the tea cup. I guessed that the girls were the victims and if Dad was being cagey about even the general facts of the case, it had to be horrible. I thought about other bad cases Dad had told me about and what I'd read about on my own, multiplied it in my mind and then shuddered.

I drank to bring myself back to awareness, noticing that Dad had set his cup down only half empty. We didn't say anything else and didn't have to. About a half later of sitting in silence, Dad seemed to shake himself off.

"How was school today?"

"We dissected squid in biology," I answered. Suddenly I remembered how I had cut into the squid's flesh and removed its inner organs. I had dug my bare fingers into its body, all with clinical efficiency. Is that what had been done to those girls? I didn't dare ask because now I didn't want an answer.

I talked about band and orchestra to change the subject. Both Mr. Rose and Mrs. Kessler had announced that the two groups for upperclassmen next year would take a trip to Chicago on spring break. Mom came home sometime after that and quickly picked up on Dad's mental state. She called for take out and sent me to start my homework.

My bedroom is in the basement level, renovated and soundproofed, like my own little domain. My gray tabby, Hannah, came out to greet me, winding between my feet. Hannah is extremely shy and avoids everyone except for me, even Mom. I sat on my bed and pulled out my Greek mythology book for English.

I never heard about what had been done to the victims, or even if any of them were alive. In fact, Dad went back to his old method of nondisclosure entirely for awhile, not telling me anything, even after I asked. So I went back to my research habits because at least Dad was still telling me where he was going. I read about the bank robberies in LA and the rapes in Ohio. Dad seemed even worse after that case.

"Is this something with your dad again?" Alicia asked me in the minutes before band started one day. Alicia only sometimes picked up on when something serious was going on with me, but when she did, she usually blamed Dad. She's usually right.

"I'm not sure," I answered, grabbing my music folder out of my slot. I saw Michael watching me carefully from his position in the back with the percussion instruments, wielding his drumsticks across his chest defensively. I nodded briefly at him to say that I would talk with him later.

I was able to shake Alicia off because her assigned seat was a row back from mine and at the opposite end. But when I sat down, I felt hands on my shoulders.

"You are super tense, baby."

I looked up and around and saw Mark grinning down at me. I faked a smile in response.

"Just some parent drama," I answered. For all he could make my skin tingle, I still didn't know Mark as well as Alicia or Michael. Mark still thought Dad's job as an FBI agent was cool.

"I know just what you need," Mark said, leaning closer and kissing me gently on the cheek. "How about you come over tonight and hang out. Real low key."

I smiled for real this time. "That sounds nice. I'll ask my mom when I get home."

"Good."

Mrs. Kessler came out and got us started and I lost myself in our music for the next forty minutes. I've been playing the flute since I was nine and it's something I relied on for a lot of reasons. Most of my friends were band or orchestra members and I spent most of my time with them in and out of school, so it was definitely critical to my socialization. Music was a great way to distract myself from anything else wrong in my life, like my current worries and other points in my life. Mastering a run of tricky eighth notes, sustaining a long phrase on little breath, or learning a new fingering always made me feel proud like nothing else could. And music brought peace to my heart in a pure and beautiful fashion.

At the end of band, I headed to lunch with Mark, sitting close enough that there was no space between our legs. He kept me smiling which kept me going through English and PE. Orchestra was my last class for the day and I concentrated on my playing once again. With the final bell, I packed up my books and music to bring home and found myself standing next to Michael.

"Talk," he commanded.

All I had to do was look at him and Michael, like Alicia, figured out the likeliest explanation.

"Rough cases for your dad?" he asked, just to make sure.

"Yeah," I answered. "And he's shutting me out again."

Michael wrapped an arm around my shoulder, the closest he gets to hugging. I leaned in gratefully.

"Do I need to surf online?"

Michael and I had become friends initially because he had showed me a website for bomb enthusiasts, thinking that it was information the FBI needed and that I could tell my dad. Sure, Dad ended up misunderstanding that little event, but that didn't change it for me.

"I think most of it is under the radar," I complained.

"Well, nothing I can do about that," Michael admitted.

"You're doing it," I pointed out. "Sometimes it helps just to have someone else know what's going on."

"I know that feeling."

I was probably the only person that knew about Michael's home life. All of our classmates saw him as a punk and the teachers weren't much better.

"I'd better go," Michael said suddenly, pulling into himself and disappearing into the after school crowd in the hallway before I could respond.

I was confused until I saw Mark headed toward me. However much Michael was friendly with me and a good guy, he always avoided my other friends. It's not like any of them complained about that either.

"You look upset," Mark commented. "Was that jerk bothering you?"

"No," I assured him. "Nothing like that."

"If you say so. Were you able to call your mom about tonight?"

"Not yet. She should be home though, in about an hour, so I can ask her then and give you a call."

Mark smiled and brought his hand up to caress my cheek. "Looking forward to it."

We kissed, gentle and unrushed, mindful of the masses around us. We drew back from each other slowly and I waited for my heartbeat to return to its normal rhythm.

"See you later."

"Bye."

I rode home with Alicia and her mom, Mrs. Burke. I had my license but no car or parking space in the school lot. Once I was home, I finished my homework quickly.

Mom was late and didn't get home until close to six, looking exhausted.

"Hi, sweetie, how was school?" Tired as she was, Mom still sounded genuinely interested.

"It was fine. Would it be okay if I went over to Mark's house for a few hours?" I asked.

"Sure, sweetie. Just be home by ten."

Maybe I was overestimating how aware Mom was because she just kissed me on the cheek and walked down the hall to her bedroom, probably to take a long bath. On a normal night, even Mom would have made sure that Mark's parents were still home and that I promised to be home by curfew. But I wasn't about to question my good luck.

Downstairs in my room, I changed into my favorite V-necked pink tee shirt, keeping my dark jeans on from earlier in the day. I brushed out my hair, leaving it loose, and applied some pink lip gloss on my lips. It was starting to get cold out, so I grabbed a white denim jacket along with Mom's car keys. The drive to Mark's house was fifteen minutes and he answered the door on the first ring.

"Hey, you made it," Mark said with one of his slow, sleepy smiles.

"Sorry, my mom came home late," I explained, walking in. Mark took my jacket and hung it in the front hall closet before leading me downstairs to the den.

"Well, Mom and Dad are out at a party, so it's just you and me tonight," Mark said.

Mark's older brother, Josh, was away at college, so—we really were alone. My breath caught in my throat for a minute as I thought through all the implications of that. This was the very first time Mark and I were together and without the chance of being interrupted by any friends or parents. Suddenly, I had oxygen rushing into my brain again.

I joined Mark on the couch, sitting close so that his arm eventually draped around my shoulders. With him staring at me, I smiled hesitantly. He smiled back.

We didn't do anything right away except watch television. I think we weren't used to the freedom we had since we had had to play it pretty safe up until then. But somehow my hand ended up resting on his chest, right above his heartbeat and his hand on my arm started rubbing against my skin with his thumb.

It was just so nice to have normal worries, like wondering when he would lean in to kiss me or if I should start it. Worry about if his parents came home early or if Mom or Dad would call to interrupt. Even that thought didn't linger long and I was even forgetting all my concerns about Dad and his team and work.

And it was then I decided to just let go. I sat up a little, ignoring how Mark drew back a little as if he was worried I was going to stand up. I moved my hand to his face, feeling his cheek which barely required shaving at this point. I leaned in and kissed him, tasting the minty toothpaste he must have used before I had arrived, judging from the potency. It made me glad I had sucked on a mint on the drive over.

Without hesitation, Mark shifted his hands to my hips and guided me onto his lap so that I straddled him. I broke away from his mouth with a jolt, feeling him directly underneath me.

"I, I don't know how far I want to go," I admitted breathlessly.

"It's okay," Mark assured me, kissing me gently and drawing back again. "You can stop us whenever you want."

So even though I still felt him and his hands squeezed my waist tightly, I leaned in closer and wrapped my arms around his shoulders and neck. We kissed and when I felt his tongue on the seam of my lips, I opened them.

I didn't even have words to describe how it all felt. Words didn't even matter any more, just Mark, his lips, his hands. His hands which were slowly working their way underneath my tee shirt and touching my bare skin. I felt goose bumps rise on my arms and I shivered.

"This is, this is enough," I whispered. "Please, just this."

"Whatever you say," Mark promised with a gentle kiss. "Clothes will stay on."

I laughed a little, and maybe a little hysterically. "Okay, then go back to what you were doing before."

"As you wish."

The next kiss was as hungry and fervent as before, with tongues and questing hands. He couldn't help but jerk his hips up, sending another jolt straight through me.

Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo!

It was like a freaking bucket of cold water had been dumped all over us. Mark jumped back, I sat up, both of us out of breath and shaking.

"Damn, effing, cuckoo clock," Mark swore.

I giggled. Then I realized how many times the bird had sounded.

"Oh, crap. I had to be home, like ten seconds ago," I babbled.

"What?"

"My curfew is ten o'clock. I've got to get home."

"Right, of course, sorry."

Mark walked me upstairs, handed me my jacket, and kissed me again. I put my hand firmly on his chest and pushed him away. "No more of that," I said. "Neither of us want to see me grounded."

I got out of the door without any other distractions and somehow drove home without running off the road. Mom was asleep when I checked, so I just kissed her good night and went down to my room. After changing into my pajamas and lying down in bed, I still felt fire racing through my veins.

For that night, I didn't have any other worries except to wonder when Mark and I would be alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In regards to Rachel and Mark, I would like to say up front that yes, their physical relationship is going to develop this movement, but I promise it will not get much more detailed than the section above. Let's call it "lemonade" instead of "lemons" since I want to keep this rating where it is. Also, they're teenagers which is reason enough. Just thought I would be clear about that right now, up front. 
> 
> So, good day, good night, and good weather to you all, thank you for reading, feel free to ask any questions or make any comments (though I don't guarantee an answer) and I'll be back next week with another chapter.
> 
> Cantoris


	3. Resolution

Related episodes: 2.5 Aftermath, 2.6 The Boogeyman

Resolution-resolving tension created previously in the musical piece, ie, consonance or a cadence

I could still remember what Dad was like after that pivotal case in Boston when Adrian Bale had surrendered but killed the six FBI agents sent in by my father afterward to clear out the hostages. I could still remember the look on his face when a severed, human head had been sent to the cabin while we had been on vacation. After countless "bad cases" I had tried to pick up the pieces left of Dad's composure.

Lately, it was like every single case was worse than the one before and I couldn't even find all the pieces, let alone put them back together.

My first clue as to how bad it was came when Dad came over one night when Mom was actually out to dinner with some donors for the clinic. Mark was putting in family time since his brother was visiting for the week, Alicia was working on a paper due the next day and Michael was working at the repair shop.

Dad found me on the couch, Hannah tucked between my hip and the armrest with my geometry homework finished in my lap. Hannah wriggled out and darted for the staircase to the basement before Dad sat down next to me.

"Rachel, have you ever felt angry at the people I go to help on cases?"

I looked over, checking his expression to try and figure out where Dad was going with this. He had never before directly asked me how I felt about his career.

"Sometimes," I answered honestly. "It's hard not to when you miss something important or leave me behind somewhere."

"But, you don't actually blame them for taking me away?" Dad asked urgently. "Not the victims or innocent people?"

I frowned and shook my head. "No. It's not their fault that some psychopath decided to target them." I looked at Dad carefully again before going on. "But, I'm allowed to resent those guys, right? The murderers and pedophiles and rapists?"

Dad closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch, maybe in relief. "It's all right to resent them, Rachel."

"Why are you asking me this?" I asked softly, trying to read every nuance on Dad's face.

He sighed, opened his eyes and looked over at me. "Our unsub for this case was an eleven-year-old boy who was beating and killing other children because his father was spending more time with them than him."

It didn't take a genius to notice the potential parallels.

"Dad," I said carefully. "Just because I get upset when you're not here because you have to save a bunch of people, it doesn't mean that I'm going to go on a rampage to get back at you for it."

Dad's smile was tiny, miniscule even, but at least it was enough to be noticed. "I know that, Rae. I do."

I didn't argue that if he thought that, he shouldn't have needed to ask me in the first place. I could tell there was still something bothering him.

"Dad, was there anything else?"

He shook his head, reaching out to put a hand on my shoulder. "Nothing you need to worry about."

I waited for him to turn away before I rolled my eyes. Typical Dad response which responded to my question without answering my question.

I noticed that Dad still acted somewhat haunted for the next week, but he still refused to talk about it. Mom didn't have any answers for me either when I asked her. It wasn't until I noticed that Reid hadn't been over for dinner in awhile that I realized I had someone else to ask for information. Something was wrong with Dad and it had something to do with work. If he wasn't going to tell me, I was going to find someone who would.

I borrowed Mom's car one afternoon while she was napping to make up for a late shift the night before. I left a note that I was out with Alicia and that I might miss dinner. I remembered the drive to Quantico and then sat in the car, wondering what to say to get past security. I didn't even have Reid's number to ask him for help or if he even would.

Finally, I settled on bluffing my way in. It was a different guard at the front desk than before. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"I need to see Dr. Reid, please," I said confidently. One of the rules of bluffing is to stick to the truth as much as possible. Another is that if you act like what you're doing is normal, most people will believe it.

This security guard was younger and apparently more suspicious than Hughes had been.

"Is he expecting you?" he asked skeptically.

"No, but please tell him that Rachel is here to see him." I couldn't chance giving my last name in case the guard would recognize it and call Dad.

The guard made the call and I watched his face change from skeptical to understanding. "All right, sign in here and I'll get your badge. You'll have to wait a few minutes for an escort."

"I know the way," I countered, writing my name messier than usual to disguise my name. "And I don't want to be late and make my mom worry."

The Mom card worked. The guard let me through the gate and watched me walk to the elevator. No doubt he was watching the lit numbers above to make sure I had gone to the right floor. If I had gotten looks walking myself out the last time I had been there, I was getting more walking in alone. The bull pen was somewhat more subdued than before, maybe because it was later in the day and some people had already gone home.

Reid was at his desk and so was Morgan. I saw lights on in both offices up the stairs and prayed that Dad didn't come out and see me. I didn't want to think about the kind of punishment he would give me for this, even though it's not like Dad ever forbade me from coming to the academy or the offices.

"Rachel, what are you doing here?" Reid demanded, standing once I had walked all the way over. "Does your dad know you're here?"

"No, and I want to keep it that way," I answered. "I just need to talk to someone."

Reid glanced up at Dad's office and looked back at me nervously. "Okay." Then he turned to Morgan who was openly eavesdropping. "Morgan, is Garcia still in her office?"

"She might be, but she'll vacate if you need her to," Morgan said, looking at me curiously. "She'll find some excuse or something to fill her time."

"Okay, Gideon's on a conference call right now for a consult, I need you to cover for me," Reid explained.

Morgan smiled lazily. "Man, what do I know? You were muttering something about quantum theory something and brain chemistry, then jumped up and took off. I have no idea whatever geeky thing you were talking about or how it pertains to the file you're working on."

I watched as Reid smiled back. "Great, now I have to make up some revelation when I get back, thanks, man."

"Like that's hard, now get, quick, before your luck runs out."

Reid pointed back toward the hallway and gestured for me to start walking. I wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but I did understand that Morgan was going to lie to Dad and maybe Hotch about where Reid was.

"Thanks," I said over my shoulder.

"No problem, sweetheart," Morgan replied with another smile and a wink. "Anything for a pretty girl."

I hid my blush by turning my face forward and following Reid who was now in front of me. He hurried us down the hall and around a corner before opening a door that confused me for a minute. It was dim from a lack of overhead lights, but lit with a soft glow coming from almost a dozen computer screens. The woman seated in the center spun around and I tried not to stare. Maybe in another place, she wouldn't have looked so eye-catching and bright, but I never would have thought to see a person dressed in a combination of fifties vintage clothes, artisan and costume jewelry, heels that made my feet hurt just to look at and bold glasses on her face.

"What mortal dares to enter the house of the all knowing Oracle? Speak!"

She hadn't turned around yet and I saw more personality in her decorations than in the rest of the entire headquarters.

"Garcia, I need a favor," Reid said.

"What can I do for you, junior G-man?" she asked and spun around to face us. When she spotted me, she smirked. "A little young for you, don't you think?"

"What? No, no, that's not—it's not what you think, Garcia," Reid sputtered and I suddenly realized that this woman thought we were a couple. That's just gross.

"No way," I said. "It would be like dating my brother."

"This is Rachel, Gideon's daughter," Reid finally got out coherently. "We just need a space to talk where Gideon can't find us."

Garcia continued to smirk. "Sure thing, boy genius. Just don't fog up my screens. I'll talk to you later, chickadee."

It wasn't until after she left that I realized she was referring to me as chickadee. I shook my head in confusion before muttering, "She's a little strange."

"That was nothing," Reid commented. His earlier fumbling was forgotten and it was like talking to the same Reid again that I've always known. "Now, do you want to tell me why you showed up out of the blue and you don't want your dad to know?"

"He's not talking to me anymore and I know something's wrong," I said bluntly. Anyone else and I would have eased into it, but when it comes to subtle, a lot of that goes right by Reid without anything sinking in. "I know there are things that I don't want to know and don't need to know, but I know that something is wrong here. Mom doesn't even know what's happening and I'm worried about him."

Reid sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. It was too short now to tuck behind his ears which used to be his habit. But he still didn't say anything.

"I know there was a case where the victims were girls around my age and really bad stuff happened to them," I went on. "That was bad enough, but then you guys came back from Ohio and he was worse. And then he actually asked me about how I felt about your cases after that kid was killing other kids. Just tell me something Reid, anything."

"It's not the cases so much that have been bad, just other things that are going on," Reid said. "Yeah, the first case you're talking about was bad, but that was probably because the mothers were being sent videos of the torture from the unsub and that we were caught off guard about the unsub being a woman and that she was right there in the precinct with us before escaping."

"So someone got the drop on you guys, like Bale?" I asked. I knew Dad still blamed himself for their deaths.

"It's not just that," Reid corrected me.

We both froze when the door opened, turning to see both Garcia and Morgan entering.

"Think fast, man," Morgan said. "Gideon's looking for that preliminary profile, you're out of time."

"But you didn't even tell me what's going on," I protested.

Reid looked back and forth between me and Morgan a few times. "Just let me think, let me think." I wondered how many people got to watch the thoughts literally flying across Reid's face as he worked out a problem. Even as I wanted to smack him to get him to snap out of it, I couldn't help but watch in fascination.

"All right, I'll go tell Gideon that I need to leave to trace down a lead for the profile," Reid finally said. "Garcia, can Rachel wait here until I get back?"

"Sure thing, my fine doctor," the woman promised.

Reid kept me in his gaze even as he answered her. "Thanks, Garcia. I'll be right back."

"Let's go, kid," Morgan said, opening the door. The handsome agent gave me a small smile. "Really, next time I'll give you the tour, cross my heart."

My cheeks felt warm as Reid and Morgan left, leaving me alone with their technical analyst.

"He is a wonderful example of the male form, isn't he, chica?"

I looked over at the other woman, watching as she made her way to her chair and smirking at me.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Morgan. You're not the first or the only one to enjoy that piece of chocolate eye candy."

I was certain my cheeks flared even more red. Instead of blatantly lying—something told me she wouldn't be fooled nearly as easily if I were talking with Alicia—I said, "Why do you keep calling me chickadee and chica? And you wouldn't call Reid by name either. And what do I call you?"

Every once in awhile, I'll babble when I'm flustered. I think Reid was rubbing off on me.

"Well, you can call me Penelope or Garcia, whichever you prefer," she answered, still smirking at me. "And I always use nicknames, they're fun and they make people smile."

She didn't need to explain that smiles were rare in the FBI, let alone the BAU team.

"And since you are a young songbird, it's chica or chickadee."

Something told me that this woman would never actually ask if she could call someone by a nickname, she just would from the start and because she was so bubbly, no one ever asked her to stop. Truthfully, I didn't mind at all, I was just venting some stress by asking about it.

That stress must have showed more than I thought because the next thing I knew, Garcia was dragging me over to another chair to sit down.

"You're a little pale there. You worried about your dad?"

I nodded, breathing slowly and evenly to fend off a panic attack.

"I don't like it when he doesn't tell me anything," I admitted. I glanced sideways at her. "I don't suppose you'll tell me what's going on."

Garcia shook her head. "Reid will be back in a minute and he'll tell you what he thinks you need to know. My lips are sealed."

I rolled my eyes.

She was showing me how to get past the firewalls on the school computers when Reid returned. He took one look at us and grimaced.

"Garcia, what happens when she gets caught and explains where she learned how to do that?" he asked.

"With the way I'm teaching her, she won't get caught," Garcia replied flippantly.

I looked over my shoulder at him and grinned. "You're the one always telling me that no knowledge is wasted knowledge."

Reid shook his head. "I disavow all knowledge and responsibility of this. Rachel, let's go before we both get caught by your dad. And if we stay much longer, we will be caught."

"Bye, Garcia, thanks."

"You are more than welcome. Come back and see me anytime, chickadee."

Reid hurried me through the hallways and down the elevator. He stopped and had a quiet word with the front desk guard, maybe laying out our cover story to cover our tracks. For all I knew, Garcia was erasing my presence from the sign in and the security cameras.

"You drove here?" Reid asked when we were outside.

"Yeah. Mom was sleeping and I left a note saying I was out with Alicia."

When we got in the car, Reid gave me directions to a nearby café that was still open. He bought a super large coffee for himself, a hot chocolate for me, and a couple of brownies, then led us to a pair of overstuffed arm chairs. I sipped and chewed, waiting for Reid to say something as the sun set and the darkness came on. I was half way done when he did finally speak.

"Do you remember that case last spring, when you were at the cabin with your dad?" he asked.

"Yeah," I answered quietly. I still had dreams about that severed head.

"And he had you stay in a hotel until the case was over, right? Did he tell you why?"

"He said that one of agents had been shot by the unsub and that he knew where we all lived," I explained. "Is that still bothering Dad?"

"It's still affecting all of us," Reid said sharply. "Elle almost died."

"I'm sorry," I apologized softly. "I didn't mean—"

Reid shook his head. "No, that was unfair of me. If Gideon isn't telling you anything, then you don't know what's been going on with our team."

"So, Dad is still upset because Elle almost died?" I asked.

Reid sighed. "It's more than that. We had a case when Elle went undercover and, something happened, we're still not sure. But the unsub got away, so Elle went after him later and… she shot him."

I gulped and put my hot chocolate down. "She just killed him?"

"She said it was self defense and that she had only gone to confront him when he attacked her. And the bureau investigation agreed with her."

"So, Dad's just worried about Elle," I guessed. "But you guys will look after her and she'll be better."

"Not this time. Elle left. We had a case and Hotch stayed behind to find her. By the time we got back, she had resigned. She didn't even say good bye."

I looked over and saw that Reid was probably just as off balance about all of this as Dad was. But I knew that Reid didn't have any family around to look after him the way that Mom and I did for Dad. I reached out and took Reid's hand and squeezed. I couldn't think of anything else to do.

Reid squeezed back for a second and then shook himself off. "Now, this conversation didn't happen. You still don't know anything about our cases or about Elle."

I nodded dumbly, still processing. We finished our drinks and then I dropped Reid off at the closest subway station so he could go home.

"Hey, Reid!" I called out just before he was out of my sight. He turned around, looking at me in worry. "Thanks."

He smiled. "Take care of yourself, Rachel. And take care of your dad."

I smiled back. "I always try."


	4. Suzuki

Related episode: 2.9 Lessons Learned

Suzuki-a methodology of teaching music, designed by Shin'ichi Suzuki

"Hey, did you get those proofs for geometry?"

I looked up from The Odyssey to meet Michael's eyes as he scribbled out his homework. Michael was supposed to be in gym while I had study hall, but we were sitting together on the floor in one of the practice rooms next to the orchestra room where the junior/senior winds were practicing.

"They're not that hard and I'm not letting you copy," I replied shortly.

He shook his head, making his long blond hair fall into his face. "Right. Sorry, I wasn't thinking."

He turned back to his notebook and I took another moment to study him. Michael always looked like he was short on sleep, but the bags under his eyes were a little darker than usual. His hands shook a little as he wrote out his equations and he was quieter than normal.

"Are you okay?" I asked. "I thought you had worked enough this summer that you could work less this year."

"Wasn't work," Michael muttered, not looking up at me.

"Then what was it? You look exhausted and you're not thinking straight."

He ignored me and kept writing. Despite the fact I was pretty much the only person who talked with him and got actual conversation in return, there was still only far I could push him until he shut down on me, too. Michael had been alone for a long time, but I wouldn't give up on him.

I sighed and opened The Odyssey again. On impulse and to show Michael that I wasn't going any where, I turned sideways and leaned back so that my head rested against Michael's lap, opposite his notebook. I felt him freeze underneath me and heard him stop writing.

"Um, Rachel?"

"Yeah?" I responded casually, propping my book open on my bent legs.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?"

"I'm very comfortable."

"Okay, then."

We each went back to our homework and spent the rest of the period in companionable silence. It wasn't until we were standing and gathering our things for the rest of the morning when it occurred to me what other people would think. So many people thought that Michael and I were seeing each other, that we were sleeping together, doing drugs together, and whatever else puerile, teenaged minds could come up with. Honestly, I was surprised Mark didn't make a big deal out of it, but the one time he asked me, I told him the truth and he hasn't asked since. Not like that kept everyone else from gossiping.

I liked Michael. We could talk to each other like we couldn't with anyone else, like my dad's job and his dad in general. He told me almost a year ago that he wanted to be friends because I didn't judge him. Even though I had other friends, it was nice for me, too, to have someone who didn't think Dad's job was cool or look at me funny when I worried.

"There are more rumors about you and Michael," Alicia told me in band later that morning. "Claire saw you come out of a practice room today, told Jenny and everyone else she bumped into in the hallways."

I rolled my eyes. "'Lish, we've had this discussion before."

"Yeah, I keep hoping if I repeat myself, you'll actually listen to me one time."

Needless to say, Alicia thought I was insane for being friends with Michael. Sometimes, I thought she actually believed the rumors and not me when I said Michael and I were only friends.

"I can't believe Mark doesn't have a problem it," Alicia said, another repeated argument.

"Mark knows there's nothing to have a problem with," I answered, ignoring the little voice in my head admonishing my grammar. Predictably, the voice sounded like Reid.

I looked up from my music in time to see Alicia pouting.

"Look, can we drop it, please?" I asked.

Alicia bit her lip and glanced at me sideways. "You're still driving to the new mall tonight, right?"

Through sheer force of will, I didn't roll my eyes or frown or glare. Lately, it seemed like anytime Alicia was upset with me, I ended up driving her to the mall or a movie for her to get over it. Maybe it would get better once she gets her own license.

"Yes, I'm still driving to the mall opening tonight," I told her.

"Good. They have a new jewelry store I want to check out."

Sometimes, I wondered why Alicia and I were friends.

"I looked online and saw they have a set of earrings that would look great with that bracelet of yours."

And then I remembered that Alicia was still a genuinely good friend, just a little superficial sometimes.

By orchestra, Michael looked better rested, so I was betting that he had slept through lunch and maybe one of his afternoon classes. He walked with me back to my locker at the end of the day.

"Look, you know I wouldn't have really wanted to copy your work, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, I know," I assured him. "That's why I was so surprised when you asked."

"I just wasn't thinking."

"I know. Don't worry about it."

Michael finally accepted that it was all right and followed me outside. "So, waiting for your mom or dad today?" he asked.

"Mom," I answered. "Dad left yesterday for Cuba."

Michael looked at me askance. "Cuba? What is he doing in Cuba?"

"All he told me was that he had to interview a prisoner at Guantanamo Bay," I told him. "And he left early. There was a text waiting for me when I woke up."

"So, another souvenir tee shirt on the way then," Michael joked.

I smiled. "Well, it's not like he's going to bring cigars."

Michael walked off when we saw Mom pull up. She might not have the same prejudice against him that Dad does, but she's not a fan either. She's worried he'll be a bad influence on me or something.

"Have you heard from Dad at all?" I asked when we got home.

"Nothing new, sweetie," she answered. "I think this case is different from their usual ones, so it might be longer this time."

I shrugged. It's not like Dad hadn't ever gone two days without talking to either of us before, but he was getting better about not doing that. Last year had started with him actually texting or calling me directly whenever he would leave. And really, the biggest reason he started doing that was because I had started looking up local news reports for the cities he was going to in order to find out what was going on. Sure, I could still do that even now, but it's kind of like an unspoken agreement between us.

"Could I push my curfew to 10:30 tonight?" I asked. "It's a longer drive for the new mall."

"What new mall?" Mom looked up from the mail she was sorting.

I raised my eyebrows. "The new mall that's opening tonight in McLean. You said I could go with Alicia."

Mom groaned slightly and brought a hand up to her eyes. "Oh, Rachel, I'm sorry. I told Mary that I would cover part of her shift tonight. I can't loan you the car."

I added my own groan to hers. "Alicia is not going to be happy."

Mom patted me on the shoulder. "It's an evening opening, right? How about I drop you girls off and see if Mrs. Burke can drive you home."

"Since that seems to be the only way we're going…" I muttered.

Alicia was, in fact, not happy, but didn't have any other suggestions. So, after dinner, Mom drove us out to the mall and dropped us off at one of the main entrances. I looked around and felt a little grateful that I didn't have to worry about a parking spot. And we would have until 10:30 pm to shop since Mrs. Burke would be picking us up.

"This is so cool," Alicia said as we walked in.

I took in the scene and wondered what was wrong with me. There had to be thousands of people there and every single one of them was in a rush. Normally, I don't mind the mall and I don't mind shopping or the crowds. I mean, it's not like high school is a place of peace and quiet. But lately, I keep seeing large crowds of people and thinking about how many bad things could happen because of what I've learned from Dad's cases and my own reading.

Yep, being the daughter of an FBI agent was a bit of a downer sometimes.

I didn't share my growing unease with Alicia since I knew she wouldn't understand and it would just annoy her. We met up with Liz Peterson and a few other girls from school and then forced our way through the throngs of people to the stores we wanted to visit.

We lost ourselves in Deb's and Torrid for clothing. Alicia steered us to the small boutique jewelry store and pointed out the earrings she had mentioned earlier. They were long strings of silver and turquoise beads and a perfect match for the bracelet Dad had bought me in Mexico that was also silver and turquoise. The store sold beads as well so I picked up a few ounces worth of seed beads and signature beads to play with at home with Mom for our jewelry making.

Liz, Alicia, and I separated from the others and stopped at Auntie Anne's for warm pretzels and sat on the fountain ledge in the mall's center, underneath the large glass ceiling. There was still light streaming through, so we had plenty of time and thought to pace ourselves. I was contemplating another pretzel when I heard glass shattering above me and screams from all around us.

I was looking around at the screaming people, so I didn't notice the body not even ten feet away from me at first.

"Oh my God," Liz whispered. "I think he's dead."

I stared at the guy dressed in dark clothing, lying in a heap on the floor and his eyes wide open and staring. He didn't look that much older than we were.

"I think you're right," I told Liz.

Ignoring Alicia's hands on my arm, almost cutting off the circulation, I looked up and saw several glass panels had broken with the guy's fall and there was a man standing on the roof and looking down at us all.

"He's dead, he's really dead," Alicia whimpered next to me.

I wanted so much to give into hysterics or run away, but Alicia was falling apart next to me and Liz was still stunned. Luckily, mall security showed up and kept most everyone calm and away from the body but didn't let people rush away in panic.

"We're investigating right now, folks," one guard was saying. "It's either an accident or a robbery gone wrong. Please be patient."

I wrapped one arm around Alicia and one around Liz, keeping myself together because I needed to. Just when I thought I was under control, I was shocked for a second time.

"Hotch?" I called out when I saw that the suit-clad man was within hearing distance.

The unit chief of the BAU spun around on his heel until he saw me at the crowd's edge. "Rachel! What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Shopping," I answered, the 'obviously' implied in my tone. "What happened, what are you doing here?"

Hotch looked significantly at my friends and the other people around us. I guessed that he couldn't or wouldn't tell the absolute truth with too many people around.

"Listen," he finally said. "How are you getting home tonight?"

"Mrs. Burke will be picking us up."

"All right. I need to talk with the local cops and then I'm taking you home. Your friends should probably call for an early pick up."

"Okay."

Hotch left us and cut his way through the crowd of shoppers and mall security. While he did his thing, I dragged Liz and Alicia away from the growing throng of people, coming to see what had happened in morbid curiosity.

"Alicia, call your mom," I prompted. I gently poked her when she didn't respond. I looked over at Liz who was also still in shock. "See if she can drive Liz home, too."

Liz shook herself off. "No, it's fine, I can drive. Alicia, I'll drive you home."

"You sure?" I asked.

"Yeah," she answered, sounding like her old self. Liz is typically a very calm person, but I knew how shocking it could be when you get caught off guard by a dead body. At least she hadn't had a panic attack like I had less than a year previously.

"All right. I'll talk to you two tomorrow."

"Hopefully you'll have answers," Liz said softly, taking Alicia by the hand and leading her toward the closest exit.

"Yeah," I muttered once they were gone. "And I hope that I'll be allowed to tell you them."

I pushed my way through back toward the now taped off area, appearing to be just another gawker. But I watched on as Hotch was joined by Morgan who was followed by a handful of other officers.

"I think they just said five more guys are dead on the roof," someone whispered near me. Another said three dead on the roof and another person said there were still two assailants being pursued throughout the mall. No one knew why though.

Mall security was pushing the crowds back even further to let the paramedics in with the gurney to take the body away when Hotch found me again.

"Let's go," he said shortly.

I realized that I had never seen Hotch as an agent before. Granted, I had only seen him two or three times a year, but it had always been socially. It reminded me of when I'd seen glimpses of what Dad's like when he works and I wondered if this was just how all BAU agents acted on the job.

Morgan caught up to us at the large black SUV, not surprised to see me so Hotch must have told him.

"Did your friends get picked up?" Hotch asked, getting in the driver's seat while Morgan took shot gun and I climbed in back.

"Liz drove them both home," I answered. "They'll want to know what happened," I prompted.

Hotch and Morgan exchanged a long look before Morgan turned around in his seat to face me. "The news will say it was an attempted robbery."

"So what really happened then?" I asked.

Another look, then Hotch asked, "How do you know that's not what happened?"

I rolled my eyes. "Well, you guys are here for one thing, Dad's been in Cuba for two days for another. Last time I checked, the BAU doesn't cover robberies, or attempted ones, or need to interview someone in Guantanamo Bay to do that."

Morgan was staring at me like I had suddenly rattled off one of Reid's lectures and Hotch kept looking at me in the rearview mirror whenever he could.

"I'm not stupid, you know," I pointed out, probably sounding as petulant as I was feeling.

Morgan shook his head and smiled at me slowly. "No, no you're not stupid, sweetheart. But I'm hoping everyone else buys it."

"No one else knows you two are FBI or knows where Dad went," I explained. Maybe other insiders would figure it out, but I wasn't thinking normal people would.

"Regardless, we can't break protocol," Hotch said. I recognized the "that's the end of it" tone. "It was a robbery that was stopped before anyone got hurt and that's all anyone needs to know."

"Yeah, that's why you told me to send my friends home and decided to drive me yourself," I shot back at him.

Neither of them answered that. Instead of driving me home, Hotch actually went to their offices, parking in the underground garage.

"Finally getting the tour, I guess," I commented.

"Go, man, I'll take care of Rachel," Morgan said as we got out.

I didn't know what was going on—another surprise—until Hotch was gone and Morgan turned to me. "Haley and Jack were supposed to be at the mall tonight. Hotch can't reach her."

Probably my dad would freak out once he hears that I was there and came ten feet close to a corpse. Suddenly, I remembered the body as it had crashed through the glass ceiling. There had been a pool of blood growing underneath it that I hadn't noticed at first. My friends weren't around needing me to be strong, it was just me and Morgan in the garage.

With my hands shaking and my breath coming in shallow pants, I slowly sank to the ground.

"Whoa, whoa, easy, girl."

I didn't have Dad around this time to focus me and snap me out of it, so I forced my breath to deepen and slow down, though my hands continued to shake.

"I'll be okay," I assured Morgan. I looked up into his worried face and had another flash of memory. "You were on the roof. Hotch was right there with security inside, but you were on the roof."

Even looking so concerned for me and then surprised that I had realized what he had done, he was still one of the most good looking men I had ever seen.

"Yeah, I was on the roof," Morgan confirmed. "But let's get you home, okay?"

I nodded and let him haul me to my feet and over to his car. I went quiet during the ride home and so did Morgan. I was so zoned out that Morgan had to shake me a little when he pulled into the driveway at my house.

"Will you be all right? Is your mom home?" he asked, stepping out of the car to walk me to the door.

"She's working, but I'll be fine," I assured him.

"Are you sure? You look a little shaky still."

I nodded. "Yeah. I'll be okay."

Morgan still didn't look happy, leaving me on my own, but after making sure I got the door unlocked and went inside, I saw him drive away. Once I locked the door again behind me, I went down to my room and flung myself on my bed. Hannah came out from my closet and jumped up to join me. I cuddled her closer, bringing her up onto my chest where I could feel her purring vibrate near my own heartbeat. In addition, Hannah began kneading my collarbone while I scratched her head.

I had never before been this close to a case Dad was working before. I had always just seen the aftermath or seen him get the call to come in. But watching Hotch and Morgan as agents made me wonder if that was how Dad really was and if he was putting on an act for Mom and me. Which was real, Dad on the job or Dad as, well, my dad? Did Mom think about that? Did Haley?

I already knew I would never ask Dad about it. He was too good at responding to my questions without actually answering them. Mom would just tell me to ask him. Reid or Hotch or Morgan would probably just say the same.

Eventually, I got up and changed into pajamas and crawled under my covers, Hannah tucked up against my ribcage and my arm wrapped around her. Just before I fell asleep, I heard my phone buzz the alert for a text message.

Just landed, safe and sound. Love you, Rae, and talk to you tomorrow. –Dad

I had a feeling we would find a lot to talk about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was really no doubt that I would write this episode this way considering the location of the final show down. Teenage girl, shopping mall, not a stretch. I also thought it would be cool for her to see Hotch and Morgan in the field.


	5. Ballad

Related Episode: 2.11 Sex, Birth, Death

Ballad-light, simple song, especially one of sentimental or romantic character, having two or more stanzas all sung to the same melody

The bell rang at the end of another day, releasing the massive horde of teenagers from their prison. I packed up my music and placed my flute in its case then headed for my locker. Thanksgiving was coming up so many of my teachers were assigning long projects that would be due after our long weekend so my back pack was heavily packed with books and notes.

Just before I was about to slip my iPod into my ears and find Alicia so that her mom could drive us home, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I flinched slightly but relaxed when I saw it was Mark turning me around to face him.

"Didn't mean to scare you," he teased, leaning into my personal space. I let him.

"You shouldn't sneak up on me," I complained. "Aren't you getting tired of it?"

Mark grinned. "Nope."

I pushed against him playfully, but I overbalanced with my massive back pack. Mark caught me before I completely fell over, his hands lingering on my arm and waist. A shock of electricity went through me.

"I was thinking, we haven't been on an official date," Mark commented with a smile. "And I was also thinking that we needed to fix that. This week."

I smiled back. "Oh really? What did you have in mind?"

"There's a jazz club in DC that has some nights where they let in people under twenty one. That and some dinner sound good to you?"

I pretended to deliberate on it. From the twinkle Mark's eyes, he knew I was faking. I shrugged as if it didn't matter to me at all. "Sounds all right. What night?"

"Well, this Friday just so happens to be one of the nights we could in," Mark pointed out.

I smirked. "I'll check my busy social calendar and get back to you."

Mark winked at me. "Don't wait too long, babe. There are plenty of other girls who would love to come with me—"

I reached out and grabbed his jacket, pulling him in closer to me to kiss him full on the lips. The world around me faded out for a moment until Mark pulled away.

"What other girls were you thinking about?" I asked with a single eyebrow raised.

Mark pursed his lips—those wonderful lips—and shook his head. "Nope, no other girls come to mind. Don't know what I was thinking."

"Damn straight."

Mark kissed me again, but not nearly as long. "I've got to get to the weight room for practice. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I'll call tonight," I promised.

I watched him walk down the hallway until he turned a corner and disappeared from my sight. Once he was gone, I leaned back into my locker, my head spinning. We hadn't been on a date-date before, only group dates, occasionally hiking together or like the one night I went over to his house. Not like there was anything wrong with any of those outings, but…

"Has Lover Boy swept you off your feet again?" a voice interrupted my happy high of hormones.

I came to my senses quickly and straightened up to face Michael who had also snuck up on me.

"Please, do not ruin my happy thoughts right now," I begged, putting on my jacket and adjusting my back pack.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Michael drawled.

Maybe someone else would think Michael was jealous. Certainly the entire school population seemed to think Mark should be jealous of Michael or at least resent him and my friendship with him. But when I was essentially Michael's best friend and he didn't have many other people who were even willing to talk to him, I knew he was just worried I would leave him behind.

"Don't sulk, you look like a pigeon," I teased. And considering Michael was wearing a faded gray tee shirt with equally faded black jeans, it was even more appropriate.

I poked him in the ribs, prompting him to reach out and tweak my nose. We kept it up for a few minutes until I almost overbalanced again.

"I've got to go," I finally said. "Alicia will be waiting."

"Good luck getting permission for whatever the jock has planned for you," Michael wished me, somewhat sincerely, I think.

I pushed him playfully and said good bye. Outside the school, I caught up with Alicia who was already freaking out about our school projects. I tried to calm her down, but I didn't tell her about the date with Mark. There are some things that I just like to keep to myself.

At home, I had the house to myself, so I popped Fantasia into the DVD player and settled in to make a dent in my homework. I figured, if I could earn some brownie points by getting my homework done quickly, Mom would let me go downtown with Mark without a chaperone of any kind.

Around five in the evening, I took a break to work on some dinner. There was some leftover chicken and vegetables that I mixed together with rice and cheese. I was waiting for the oven to preheat when I heard the front door open. I turned around and saw Dad walking in.

"Hey, Dad. What's up?"

"Thought I would join you for dinner tonight."

I looked him over carefully. Dad didn't look like he was coping with a bad case; as far as I knew, he had just had a normal day at the office. But something was still off about him.

"Okay," I answered. "Mom should be home in an hour and I've got a casserole already made up."

"Sounds wonderful, Rae. You know, your mom and I really appreciate that you can look after yourself when you need to."

Yeah, something was definitely off, but I knew that if I asked, Dad would shrug it off. Luckily, I've learned how to be patient in addition to self-sufficient.

"So, how's the team?" I asked, returning to the couch where I had spread out my homework.

I saw Dad flinch in the reflection of the television screen so I must have struck a nerve. Even though he didn't say anything right away, I was hoping he would tell me if something was seriously wrong, especially if it was Reid.

"Everyone's fine," Dad finally said. Not quite a lie, but not exactly the truth by my guess. "Hotch was wondering if you were still up for babysitting Jack."

"Sure," I answered. "I might have plans this Friday, but that's about it."

I didn't even realize what I had said until the words were already out of my mouth.

"What plans?"

I could have lied. I really wanted to lie. But in addition to being a fairly truthful person, I also knew that Dad would catch on and then get pissed off. So, I took a deep breath and hoped for the best.

"Mark asked me out for dinner downtown," I explained nonchalantly. "I was going to wait for Mom to come home to ask permission."

"Absolutely not," Dad snapped.

"Why not?" I demanded. "Mark and I have been seeing each other for almost a year. All we want to do is go out on a date. I'm sixteen years old, I have my driver's license, and you just said when you came in that I can take care of myself."

"Cooking dinner and going out for dinner are completely different things," Dad argued. "You are still only a sophomore in high school and that is too young to go out on your own. Especially downtown and especially this week."

"What's wrong with this week?" I asked.

"Women are being murdered, that's what. You are not going out."

I rolled my eyes. "Why do you always have to do that? You always say you don't bring your work home with you, but you do all the time! I shouldn't spend too much time in chat rooms because predators are there. I can't drink or eat certain things at parties because I could be drugged and that's when you even allow me to go to parties. I can't drive at night by myself because it's too dangerous. Guess what Dad? I am sick and tired of living by your paranoid rules!"

I stormed downstairs to my room and locked my door. I went straight to my stereo and started blasting Beethoven until my ears started to hurt. Hannah came out of hiding, meowing her complaint and nudging my leg for food. I gave her a few cat treats that I kept in my desk drawer and then flung myself on my bed with my arm over my eyes.

A few tears leaked out and made tracks down my cheeks. Really, I did know that Dad only gave me rules because he dealt with evil every single day. And for the most part, I agreed with him. I only got upset when he took things too far and seemed like he wanted to treat my like Rapunzel or Sleeping Beauty, all locked up in their towers to keep them safe from the world.

Some time later, I barely heard the knock on my door. Knowing I would get in more trouble for not answering, I lowered the volume and shouted, "I don't want to talk to you, Dad!"

"It's me," Mom answered. "Can I come in?"

Huffing out my breath, I got up and unlocked the door. "It's open."

I flopped back on my bed and a moment later, I felt the mattress dip under Mom's weight as she sat down.

"So, was it a good day until your dad interfered at least?" she asked, trying to take the humorous approach.

I rolled my head over to look up at her. "You could say that."

"Well, what can I tell you, sweetie? Your father is your father and we both know he can't help himself."

I continued to stare at her. Mom tried to get me to smile, but I wasn't giving in that easily. "All right," she said. "Tell me what you and Mark have planned."

I told her what Mark had told me and what Dad had told me. At the end of it, Mom sighed.

"I can't say that I'm exactly thrilled at this idea," she told me. "Even without what your dad says may be going on, I'm not comfortable with you and Mark alone downtown. How about you shelve that idea for another year and try somewhere closer to home for this week? I'm sure there's some concert or movie out that you could go to and plenty of restaurants in the area. Is that a suitable compromise?"

I deliberated but it's not like I really had much of a choice. "I'll call Mark and see what he says."

"All right. Now, let's go eat some of the wonderful dinner you made."

"Is Dad still here?" I asked acidly. No way was I going up there like everything was fine.

"I told him to give you some space tonight. But Rachel, try not to hold it against him. He only wants to keep you safe."

"I know, I know."

Luckily, Mark seemed okay with the change of plans and admitted that his parents seemed happier with them as well. Dad called me the next day and apologized for overreacting. I was able to tell Alicia about the date, prompting her to come over to my house and ransack my closet to find the perfect outfit. It was life back to normal, or as close as it ever gets to normal.

And then I caught Hotch on a special news report, talking about a serial killer on the streets of DC killing prostitutes and I began to understand why Dad had freaked out.

It was further proven when the next night, Dad brought Reid over for dinner. The super genius looked floored, a little like Dad is like after a bad case. Mom was out to dinner with one of her friends to celebrate the friend's birthday, so it was just the three of us. I revised my first plan of ordering pizza for myself and instead made some shrimp fried rice.

At first, as usual, we didn't talk about their case. Reid asked after my classes, but it was like he was on auto pilot and not processing what I was actually saying.

"So then my teacher flunked me for arguing with him," I said to test the waters. Reid didn't catch what I said, but Dad did.

"Rae," he said in warning.

"Blame a girl for trying," I muttered.

Reid shook his head as if to clear away his funk and finally, really looked at me. "Sorry, what was that?"

I smiled brightly. "The band and orchestra are going to Chicago next year for spring break. So when I ask you to buy a carton of oranges from me, just think how healthy you could be drinking three glasses of orange juice a day."

"Actually, the average person only requires the amount of Vitamin C found in a standard glass of orange juice…"

With Reid off in his own head and rambling happily enough, I cleaned up the dishes to Dad's approving smile. Whatever was bothering Reid, statistics and facts were like his security blanket. A few minutes later, Dad followed me into the kitchen with the dishes I hadn't gotten. After placing the dishes on the counter, Dad leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.

"Good job."

I smirked. "I don't know what you're talking about, Dad," I said in a faux innocent tone of voice.

Dad kept smiling and patted me on my shoulder. "Thank you anyway."

I never found out what about the case had affected Reid so much, but as long as he was better, I had other things to worry about. Like my first official date with Mark.

Alicia had told me what to wear, but as I was staring at my closet that afternoon, I decided to make my own choice. Instead of the low cut tank top, skimpy blouse, and short skirt Alicia recommended, I went for a sleeveless, purple, jersey cotton dress with a sweetheart neckline that ended at my knees. Over that, I had a cropped, chocolate brown jacket Mom had given me for my last birthday. I wore some of the jewelry I had made myself, strings of blue, purple, and green beads with silver accents. My hair I pulled into a low, side ponytail and I kept my make up sparse.

"You look beautiful, sweetie," Mom told me when I came upstairs. "Have fun, be safe, and I love you."

Mark picked me up in his dad's car having gotten his license last month. We held hands while walking, we held hands throughout the movie. All the while, I kept marveling that this boy, who was handsome and talented, actually wanted me out of all the other girls at school.

It was a perfect night and I never wanted it to end. Even after Mark had pulled into my driveway, we sat in the dark, drawing out those last few moments together. And with the front bench seat there, Mark eventually moved over until we were side by side. With his hand on my leg and mine pulling slightly on his shirt, we kissed. I traced his face with my fingers and he pushed the jacket down off my shoulders, caressing the exposed skin. When his tongue met my lips, I opened my mouth, gasping with the new sensations.

I lost all track of time and I lost track of everything that was going on at the same time. It wasn't until I felt the strap on my left shoulder slip down that I pulled away, trying to reclaim some space.

Breathing heavily, I looked at Mark, feeling a little reassured that he was breathing just as hard. I gulped rapidly, took a deep breath, and then pulled Mark in again. He picked up right where we left off, sweeping the other dress strap and my bra straps down with quick, efficient movements. From there, his hands traveled lightly over the cloth of my dress, ghosting over in exploration first and then returning to my breasts which he gently fondled.

Meanwhile, I reached for his buttoned shirt, undoing each one before slipping my hands underneath to touch his skin. I felt him tense beneath my fingers and then he claimed my mouth again in a searing kiss and plunging his tongue against my own with impatience.

Lost again, I didn't protest at all when Mark pulled me on top of him, my legs suddenly tangled with his. I did sober up when I felt his hands start to travel up inside my dress. I broke off our kiss, grabbed his hands with mine, and stopped everything else.

"I'm not ready," I managed to gasp out. "Please."

Confusion in his eyes, Mark tried to break my hold. "It's okay. It'll be okay."

"I'm not ready," I repeated more firmly this time.

For a moment, I wondered if I had just ruined everything, if Mark would get angry or if he would dump me. But even those thoughts didn't change my mind about sex.

But Mark nodded so I let go of his hands and then slid over to my seat again. An apology was on my tongue, but Mark reached over and ran the backs of his fingers over my cheek.

"Whenever you're ready," he said. "I can wait."

I smiled hesitantly and leaned into his hand. "Thank you. I should get inside, my mom might be waiting up."

"Okay. I'll see you in school next week."

"Yeah."

Our last kiss of the night was chaste and sweet, putting a euphoric smile on my face as I walked through the door of my house. Once inside, I leaned back against the door, savoring the memories.

"Rachel, is that you?"

I floated on air, walking to the living room and finding Mom curled up on the couch with a book. I sat on the arm of the opposite side of the couch and then flopped over so that my legs still hung over the edge.

"Did you have fun?" Mom asked.

"Uh-huh. It was great."

"Good." Mom looked away from her book and smiled at me. "You really like this boy, don't you?"

I smiled and nodded. "Yeah."

"Maybe we should invite him and his parents over for dinner one night," Mom said.

It wasn't easy to raise my eyebrows with my head almost upside down on the cushion, but I tried. "Does Dad have to be there?" I asked, hating myself a little for it.

Mom put her book down and turned to watch me more closely. "Why don't you want your father there?"

I sighed. "Because Dad will let some profiling thing slip or he'll treat Mark like a suspect. I don't know, but something would go wrong. Or do you really think Dad could act completely normal for a night?"

Mom thought for a moment. "Hmm, I suppose you're right. But, sooner or later, honey, you'll have to introduce a boy to your dad. You might as well get the first one out of the way sooner rather than later."

I wasn't so completely enamored that I thought Mark would be my only boyfriend for the rest of my life. I had ample proof in both my parents that who you first fell in love with wouldn't necessarily be the person with whom you'd spend the rest of your life. Not that I could picture myself with someone else right now or think about not going out with Mark, but I was still enough of a realist to realize that.

"I know," I finally told Mom. "But Dad freaks out whenever I mention Mark, let alone when I brought up the date."

"Point," Mom conceded. "Let's give your dad some time to get used to the idea and then bring up dinner."

"Okay."

"Now, it's late, and you should get to bed."

I rolled off the couch and leaned down to kiss Mom's cheek. "Good night."

"Good night, sweetie."

At least Mom was always cool about normal, teenaged stuff. If both my parents were unreasonable, I think I would scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, some lemonade, but nothing too terribly detailed I think. I try to keep my writing to about the same grade as the show on purpose and I hope that I'm fairly consistent.
> 
> For some weeks, I considered having Rachel and Nathan at the same school, but while I saw no issue in Rachel at a private school, I couldn't see Michael there. So for Michael's sake, Rachel is in public education. Probably a fairly posh public school, but still. I still wish I could have done it, but oh well.


	6. Picardy Third

Related Episode: 2.12 Profiler, Profiled, 2.13 No Way Out

Picardy Third-a harmonic device when the final tonic chord is a piece composed in a minor key is resolved with a raised third, making that chord major

Mom dropped me off in the Hotchner's driveway, saying, "Be good. Call me if you have any trouble, okay?"

"Sure thing, Mom."

Haley answered when I rang the bell and gestured me inside. "Thank you for babysitting, Rachel. Aaron and I really appreciate it."

It wasn't the first time I had babysat for Jack, but this was the first time it would be at night for longer than three hours. Hotch and Haley had theatre tickets and dinner reservations which would keep them out until almost midnight.

"I left the numbers on the counter," Haley told me. "You know where the snacks are and Jack's food and juice. He should eat around five thirty and be put to bed around eight."

The little tot in question chose that moment to crawl over and tug on Haley's pants. She leaned down and picked him up.

"I can take him right now so that you can get ready," I offered. It was only about quarter to five, meaning Hotch wouldn't even be on the road for another fifteen minutes. Haley was still in leggings and an oversized sweater.

Haley smiled. "That would be wonderful."

Jack whimpered a little when Haley handed him over to me and continued to reach after her as she walked up the stairs. But as soon as I started lifting him up over my head only to let him drop a few inches before catching him again, he got over his separation. Soon, he was squealing with laughter.

I kept playing with Jack while Haley showered until I heard the phone ring. With Jack occupied with his toys on the floor, I checked the caller ID and saw it was Hotch's office line so I answered.

"Rachel? Could you get Haley for me, please?"

"Yeah, she's upstairs getting ready," I said. With the handset in one hand, I picked up Jack with my other arm and propped him on my hip.

Haley was just out of the shower and blow drying her hair, explaining why she hadn't heard the phone ring. I was about to walk downstairs when I couldn't help but overhear Haley's side of the conversation.

"Chicago? Tonight? What's so important…I understand that, but can't it wait until tomorrow morning? Yes, I realize how serious this is, don't talk down to me, Aaron. Fine. Go and do what you need to do. I'll cancel our reservations. Good bye."

I hurried down the stairs so I wouldn't be caught, thrilling Jack with the speed. We were on the carpet and playing with Jack's blocks when Haley came down. I looked up and saw she had left her hair down but had put on a casual dress. She was also wearing a stormy expression.

"Did they get called on a case?" I guessed.

Haley shook her head—in exasperation I think, not in denial—and huffed out a breath. "Chicago," she explained. "Apparently one of their agents has been arrested for homicide."

I jerked upright. "What?" I demanded. "Who?"

"Morgan," Haley answered. "He was there for his mother's birthday and was arrested. Aaron was called as his supervisor so they're all going out there to straighten things out."

"There's no way he murdered someone," I said, absolutely certain of this fact.

"That's what they're going to prove," Haley said. She stood in thought for a moment before speaking again. "I'll pay you for your trouble and take you home, all right?"

"Why don't you call a friend and go out anyway?" I suggested. "I'm already here and it's not like you can get reimbursed for your tickets."

Haley knelt down and played absently with Jack, smiling gently when her son offered her a block. I sat and waited. Despite the fact I was still a student and Haley a mother, I understood exactly what it was like to wait for someone and make plans only to have them fall through and called off by a single phone call. You could mope and rail against the universe, which I've done, or you could move on and improvise, which I've also done.

"All right," Haley finally said, getting to her feet. "I'll make a call. Thank you, Rachel."

"No problem."

Haley was out the door while I was feeding Jack, kissing him on the cheek and giving me her cell phone number if something happened. Once she was gone, I started thinking about Morgan.

I wasn't so naïve to think Morgan wasn't capable of killing someone, after all, Reid had even killed one of their unsubs. But murder implies something entirely different. Dad, Reid, Hotch, Morgan, they chased and caught murderers, they weren't murderers themselves. I just couldn't picture the handsome and charming man who winked at me as a murderer.

Dad will fix it. Dad and Hotch and Reid will figure out what's going on and fix it, I told myself. And just like that, I got a text from Dad. But he only said he was going to Chicago to help Morgan without mentioning the whole suspected-for-murder thing.

The rest of the evening, I spent with Jack, a lot of it hunched over with my fingers held tight in his chubby little hands, helping him to walk. He could manage a few steps on his own, but still needed a lot of support. We even went up and down the stairs a few times. By eight, he was tuckered out, so I gave him his final bottle for the night and put him down in his crib.

Haley and Hotch had a better cable package than Mom, so I was able to watch some old episodes of Star Trek: Voyager on demand while eating a French bread pizza from the freezer and a root beer for a late dinner. Everything was quiet until around 10:30 when I heard Jack crying over the baby monitor. Upstairs, he was standing in his crib, red-faced, and reaching his arms out for me. When I picked him up, his arms latched around me and wouldn't let go.

"It's okay, Jack," I spoke softly and gently, bouncing him a little in my arms. "Did you have a bad dream or are you just missing Mommy and Daddy?"

Jack quieted a little, but still fussed if I started to put him back in his crib. I kept talking to him, hoping to calm him back to sleep.

"I have bad dreams, too," I confided in the fourteen-month-old. "And you and me, we'll end up with more bad dreams than other kids. At least, if you're anything like me and insist on knowing what Daddy does for a living, you will probably end up learning more than you want to. Because no matter what they say about wanting to protect you, they can't help bringing some of their work home with them. And then you get curious and want to know more…well, you get the picture.

"Right now, your daddy and my daddy are trying to prove that Morgan isn't a murderer," I said. It's not like Jack would really understand my words, right? "Our daddies travel a lot, and when you're older, you might resent that. I do sometimes. But they catch bad guys and help people who are hurt." I wasn't going to go into too much detail, toddler comprehension aside.

"And in a few years, when you're my age, you'll understand why what they do is so important," I told him. "It will still hurt when you get stood up or abandoned, that won't ever change and that's okay. You just have to learn how to take advantage of the time you do get. At least, I try. I don't always manage."

After fifteen minutes of rambling from me, telling Jack what I knew about the team, he was asleep on my shoulder. I know he couldn't understand a word of what I said, for him it was just the sound of my voice that was important, but it helped me to talk things through, too. I put Jack back in his crib and tucked the blanket around him.

Downstairs again, I helped myself to the hot chocolate I found in the pantry. I spent some time texting with Alicia and took out the Mercedes Lackey book I had brought along to read. I was starting to nod off when I heard Haley come in through the front door.

"How was he?" she asked as I started to pick up.

"He was a little fussy around an hour ago, but he went back to sleep after some rocking," I reported.

"All right, I'll check on him when I go upstairs." Haley got her wallet out of her purse and handed me a few twenties. "Really, thank you for convincing me to go out. And I called your mother as I was coming over so she should be here in a few minutes."

"Thanks, Haley."

Mom and Haley exchanged quick pleasantries before we drove home. I headed straight for my room and changed into pajamas, disturbing Hannah when I pulled back the covers to crawl into bed. Once I was settled, the cat positioned herself squarely on my feet, creating a welcome spot of heat. I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

But when I dreamed that night, there was nothing pleasant about it. In a jumbled collection of visual scraps, I saw the severed head that made frequent appearances in my nightmares. I saw Dad confronting Morgan with guns in both of their hands. Mark slapped me for my friendship with Michael only to turn around and kiss Alicia as passionately as he kisses me.

I woke up gasping, feeling my heart pound and my face burn. I got out of bed, my hands still shaking, and walked over to the bathroom next to my room. I splashed some water on my face and then went upstairs. Mom was sleeping soundly in her bed, so I returned to my room and climbed into bed again. My clock read 4:13 am.

Impulsively, I sent a text to my dad, asking if everything was all right. I sent something similar to Reid for good measure. By then, my heart rate felt normal and I tried to fall back asleep in a different position from before. At one point this past summer, when my bad dreams had started to get really creative, one of Reid's ramblings had mentioned how scientists for sleep studies had found you could only have the same dream if you slept in the same way.

Not that my bad dreams had gone away, they were just different every time. I still haven't decided if I prefer it that way or not.

I gave up on sleep around seven that morning, even though it was the weekend and put on my most worn pair of jeans and a long sleeved navy tee shirt. Mom was sleeping in, so I just made a mushroom omelet for myself for breakfast along with some orange juice. A good meal broke through the last of the restless, foggy feelings lingering from the nightmare.

As I was cleaning up the mess I had made, my phone vibrated in my pocket—I had left it on silent from last night so it wouldn't wake Jack. The screen told me Dad was calling, and in Chicago, it had to have been only 6:30 am.

"Rachel? Is there something wrong?" he asked.

"Not with me," I replied, only partially a lie. "I'm just worried. Can you tell me what's going on?"

I heard him sigh over the phone. "What do you know?"

"I was with Haley when Hotch called her," I explained. "She told me Hotch said Morgan was being arrested for murder."

Another sigh. "We're trying to work out what's going on this morning. I don't want you to worry, Rachel."

"Easier said than done."

"I know. I'll call you later, all right?"

"Okay. I love you."

"I love you, too, Rae."

I hung up but I wasn't holding out much hope for Dad actually calling me back with any new information. I was caught up on my homework for the next week, so I pulled out my jewelry making project: a watch for Mom's Christmas gift. I was working on stringing several strands of beads that I would bind together to form the watch band using green, orange and gold seed beads. I was half-way finished when I heard Mom in the shower. I packed up quickly and went to start a pot of coffee.

"Good morning, sweetie," Mom said, finding me on the living room couch on her way to the kitchen. "Have you been awake long?"

"Couldn't sleep," I answered with a shrug. "Want some breakfast? I already made the coffee."

Mom smiled in gratitude, walked over and kissed my forehead. "You are a treasure among daughters. I'll just have a muffin for now and wait for lunch."

She came to join me a few minutes later, bringing the morning paper along with her. I had my own book which I was pretending to read.

"Any plans today?" Mom asked after a half hour or so.

I shook my head. "Nope."

"How about a spa day?"

I smiled.

By the end of the day, I had chocolate brown toenails, shimmery purple fingernails, my face completely exfoliated and moisturized, and I had been able to put Chicago out of my mind during all of it. Mom and I cooked a virtuous meal of roasted salmon with steamed vegetables and orzo pasta, but finally splurged on the raspberry fudge swirl cheesecake in the freezer. Neither of us felt very guilty about it.

During the day, I hadn't heard a word from Dad, but Reid had replied from my early morning text, saying: Morgan's being set up, we're taking care of it.

Well, I could have guessed that much on my own, thank you very much. Still, it was more information than Dad was likely to give me until it was all over. That wasn't until the next day when Dad picked me up from school.

"Is Morgan okay?" I asked as he drove me home.

Dad didn't reply for a long time. When he finally spoke, all he said was, "He will be. It was a very emotional case, but we were able to arrest the real murderer."

It seemed enough for Dad that as long as they caught their bad guy, it didn't matter if the case sent any of them through the wringer. I wondered if Morgan felt the same.

I started to come around to Dad's line of reasoning, or at least I started to recognize that it was like adding insult to injury when a particularly emotional case ended without catching the bad guy.

The same day I was auditioning for pit band for the spring musical, Dad was sitting across the table from a serial killer, attempting to bring him in. I didn't know about this until I came home and found Mom and Dad standing in Mom's office where he must have found her when he walked in. When I peeked inside, Dad had his arm raised and his hand cupping Mom's cheek. She had both of her hands wrapped around his elbows, keeping him close and supported. They hadn't noticed I was there, so I eavesdropped shamelessly.

"He's a sexual sadist," Dad was saying. "It's impossible for him to feel any emotion, let alone love, but he stood there and convinced this woman he loved her."

"Some women will believe anything is possible if they want it badly enough," Mom explained gently. "Once her mind was made up, there wasn't anything you could have said to convince her otherwise."

"We let one of the most prolific serial killers in the country walk away with one of his own victims."

"And you saved how many children? Twenty, thirty? Please, don't let this haunt you, Jason."

Even hidden as I was, I repressed the urge to roll my eyes. As well wish for the earth to stop rotating on its axis.

"One of the last things he said to me, he hoped that I would someday experience what he feels," Dad said quietly, almost so quietly I couldn't hear him.

"Mind games," Mom countered. "Evil men always want you to believe you could turn out just as evil as they are."

"No, he meant falling in love," he corrected her. "He actually thought that I had never experienced love like he claims to."

Overwhelmed, I darted down the hallway to escape the conversation taking place like I should have from the start. Mom and Dad talking through a case was one thing, but I knew I had no place listening in to their private feelings for each other.

A while ago, I had asked my mother if she and my father loved each other. She had told me it was simpler when they had first met and they had gone their separate ways. Even now, she had said, they cared for each other deeply even if they didn't have a traditional, romantic relationship. I didn't know one way or the other if they had ever acted on their feelings beyond my conception. Honestly, most of the time I'm certain I don't want confirmation either way.

I waited at the kitchen counter for my parents to come out. I heard my mom finishing an argument as they walked down the hallway.

"If he is what you say he is, he won't stay on the run forever. And when you come across him again, you'll be prepared this time."

"I truly hope so," Dad said.

It sounded like a prayer. With a shiver running down my spine, I hoped whatever creative force was out there was listening.

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, as we know, is setting up some themes for later chapters. Rachel's future relationship with the Hotchners and Frank, of course, being the biggies. And yes, I deliberately put in some mother/daughter bonding. I chose the chapter title because of that mentality that as long as you catch the unsub, any emotional suffering is worth it. Kind of like the musical version of a silver lining.
> 
> Fair warning, we're coming up on some heavy episodes


	7. Deus Ex Machina

Related Episodes: 2.14 The Big Game, 2.15 Revelations

Deus Ex Machina-from Latin meaning "god out of the machine" it is a plot device used in opera to represent an other-worldly intervention, such as in Mozart's The Magic Flute

Somehow, I didn't think the school board had the Super Bowl in mind when they scheduled finals, but it just worked out that finals week ended right before the weekend of the last football game of the season. I wouldn't have paid much attention to it except that Mark kept bringing it up. Much as I liked him, I was completely uninterested in going to his house for his family's party. I just explained that Mom and I had a tradition of going out to see a movie on Super Bowl Sunday. And later that night, we would go out someplace nice for dinner with Dad before he went off to the Smithsonian where his curator friend would give him a private art showing.

This year was no exception. We went to a fancy French restaurant to change things up from our usual Italian. Mom and Dad shared a bottle of wine, which I got to taste, and we all started with crusty French bread and creamy Brie. For dinner, Dad ordered coq au vin, Mom the sole meuniere, and I got the cassolet. Dad turned down dessert, but Mom got bread pudding and I ended up guarding my chocolate crème brulee from Dad's wandering spoon.

We talked about upcoming plans; my half-brother John and his wife, Kathryn, were coming out for a few days, but then Dad was going to visit his son, Stephen, in Philadelphia. We talked about The King and I which would be our musical in the spring since I had made it into the pit band again. There was no talk of cancer patients or crime victims, no pompous administrators or psychotic unsubs.

At home again, I took a long shower, taking the time to comb out and braid my hair and spent a few hours playing around on Facebook. The updates page was cluttered with score updates and complaints about various plays of the game. I spotted the pictures Mark had posted and browsed through, liking my favorites. I was about to sign off when I saw a video link pop up from several people.

When I clicked on it to watch, I felt confused and sick at the same time. At first, it was just a guy in a hood on a rant about society's fading and non-existent morals. Fundamental religious fanatic if I had to guess. But then the guy was replaced by a clip of a typical bedroom where a man was apparently getting ready for bed. But before he could do much more than take off his sweater, another man in a hooded jacket came up behind him and slit his throat.

After it was over, I scanned through the growing number of comments, noting that the video had over a thousand likes and nearly the same number of comments in only an hour of being posted. Theories about the video's origin ranged from thinking it was a trailer for a new movie to being the product of a bored and slightly twisted film geek. Either way, I just thought it was messed up.

There was no school the next day, so I slept in. Mom was at work, so I had the house to myself for the day. I did some laundry and other cleaning and also filled the Crock pot with ground beef, tomatoes, onions, peppers, and spices for chili. With some time on my hands and no homework, I set about to make chocolate cookies with strawberry frosting.

By the afternoon, our semester grades were posted on the school's website. I checked on mine, finding A's in band, orchestra, French, English, and geometry, and B's in PE and biology. I retrieved my cell phone and finally saw the text from Dad that he had been called out on a case the night before, taking the team to Georgia. I debated my next move for a few minutes before I decided to go ahead and call both Dad and Reid.

I wasn't even searching for information or details. Reid had been helping me in geometry since it wasn't one of my strongest subjects, preferring algebra. I wanted to share the good news with him and it wouldn't be fair to call Reid and not Dad. I left messages for them both, assuming they were busy on their case.

I told Mom when she came home, earning a hug and kiss for good work. We ate chili and corn chips while watching some TV and then Mom went to bed early, saying it had been a long day. I took a plateful of cookies down to my room to snack on. I was licking crumbs off my lips when my phone rang.

"Did you see this video online?" Michael asked me with no preamble.

"The creepy dude in a hood with the other guy getting his throat cut?" I asked back, guessing that Michael wouldn't be calling me about a video with kittens or rainbows.

"Yeah, there's another one, too. Rae, I think these are for real."

"It's either for publicity or someone's sick idea of fun," I argued, not really believing it myself at the moment.

"Maybe the first one, but not the second. No way he could have faked that and the resolution is all wrong for special effects or CGI."

I sat in thought for a moment. Michael's instincts were good, proven by the first time he had ever approached me and then asked to be my friend.

"Okay, say it's real," I said. "My dad's on a case already and I would hope that the FBI or somebody is already checking this out."

Michael sighed over the line. "Yeah, you're probably right. This is just creeping me out."

That scared me. "What's the second video?" I asked, going over to my computer at the same time.

"No! Don't watch it, don't search for it, please."

I rocked back on my heels before collapsing backwards to sit on my bed again. "God, Michael, you're really scaring me here. What is going on?"

"I'm sorry, but you have enough bad dreams, you don't want to add this. Please, just trust me."

Michael was the only person who knew the details of my bad dreams.

"Okay, I won't," I promised quietly. "Do you need to come over? Mom's asleep so I could sneak you in."

"No, I'm fine," Michael said quickly, which let me know how much he was lying. "I can't leave now anyway 'cause my dad's here and…he's not in a really good mood. Lost some money on the game yesterday."

I never came out and asked if Michael's father, who had a temper and a drinking problem, ever took out his frustrations on Michael. Michael never came out and admitted anything about his home life except what little I already knew. And I was willing to bet I was the only person who has ever gotten that much.

"If you're sure," I tried again.

"Yeah, don't worry about me, but, would you call your dad, just to make sure?"

"Promise. I'll see you tomorrow at school."

After hanging up with Michael, I went ahead and called Dad while my phone was in my hand, getting voice mail again. Then, because I knew he wouldn't approve, I called Reid and asked for Garcia's direct number to cover all my bases. With nothing more to do, I cuddled with Hannah on my bed and started reading through the plot and synopsis of The King and I.

It was late when my phone rang again, around three in the morning, waking me from a sound and dreamless sleep. Very groggy, I took the time to notice it was Reid calling me back. I sat straight up in bed; there couldn't possibly be a good reason for Reid to call me back at this time of night.

"Reid? What is it? Did something happen to Dad?" I didn't even think about the fact that Mom should be called in the case of an emergency, not me. But I heard nothing by heavy breathing over the line. "Reid?"

"You know this man," someone—not Reid—said. "Your phone called him twice. Who are you?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" I demanded. "Where's Reid, what's happened to him?"

"You shouldn't swear," the hesitant voice admonished. "Are you close to him? Do you know him well?"

I was so confused and off-kilter that I just answered him. "He's my friend," I said, going for simple. "Who is this? Can you tell me why you're calling me?"

"He was sent to me," the man said. He sounded young and sometimes sounded like he was talking to himself and not me. "He has to help me."

Whoever this guy was, he was tripping all of my 'disturbed' alerts. "That's what he does," I agreed. "He helps people. Is he with you? Is that why you have his phone? Please, let me talk to him."

"No, I have to go now. My father is coming."

"No, wait!"

But there was nothing else. With my heart pounding, I found myself calling Dad without any thought going into the action. I got his voice mail and rather than leave a message, I hung up and dialed again only to get voice mail a second time. I got out of bed and started pacing, typing out the following text: Emergency! 911! Pick up!

This time when I called, Dad picked up.

"Rachel, this needs to be a real emergency. I don't have time for—"

Before he could accuse me of some childish over-reaction, I interrupted, "Something's wrong with Reid. I just got a call from his phone, but someone else was talking."

"Tell me everything, now."

I repeated the conversation as best as I could remember it. "Now, do I get to know what's going on?"

"I want you to take the phone to your mother right now and then get dressed and pack a bag for a few days."

He sounded serious enough that I didn't question him and rushed to do as I was told. He was clearly in agent mode and if something had happened to Reid like I was beginning to suspect, this was going to be really, really bad.

Mom woke up quickly and took the phone from me already wide awake. She held onto my hand when I started to leave to pack like Dad had told me.

"Jason? What's going on? No, why do you need her to come down? She's not flying to Georgia in the middle of the night, she has school tomorrow. But… Well, then I'm coming with her. Then explain it to me, Jason, she is my daughter. All right, fine. But if anything happens to her, Jason, I swear to God, I will never let you near her again. Do you understand me?"

I stared at Mom, wide-eyed, as she hung up and gave me my phone back. She took several deep breaths before looking at me straight on. "I don't like this, I am agreeing to this under protest. Do what your father says, there's an agent that's going to drive you to the airport. Apparently their tech person is flying down as well, you'll be flying with her."

I kept staring, watching my normally laid-back mother lay down the law the way Dad usually does.

"Do exactly as you are told. Call me when you land and then every morning and evening. Now, go."

Getting more and more scared by the second, I flew out of Mom's bedroom and down the stairs to my own. I pulled on a sweatshirt over my tank top and put on the jeans I had worn the other day. I packed more underwear, socks, jeans, and shirts into a duffel bag along with basic toiletries. Upstairs, I found Mom in her bath robe thrown on over her pajamas, brewing a cup of instant coffee.

"Eat something," she told me absently.

I grabbed some yogurt and granola, chewing and swallowing without tasting. I chased it down with a cup of apple juice. The silence was oppressive.

"I don't know what's going on," Mom finally said. "Your father didn't feel the need to explain himself to me." For the first time in my life, I heard the same bitterness in her voice that I knew I used at times. "But I want you to promise me that you will be safe."

"I promise, Mom." I had no intention of taking any risks. I wasn't that brave.

The doorbell made us both jump. Mom went to answer it while I got my shoes and jacket from the front closet. Once I was ready, I joined Mom at the door. The agent looked around Reid's age, maybe a little older but not by much. He introduced himself as Agent Anderson and waited patiently for Mom and I to say good bye.

Mom held me in her arms for a long time, squeezing tightly. "Come home as soon as you can. I love you so much."

"I love you, too."

Anderson took my bag and led me outside to his standard black SUV, opening the door and closing it after I got in. He seemed nervous around me and treated me like I was made of glass. I was too caught up in my own borderline panic to put too much thought into it. I stared out the window, deliberately ignoring the looks Anderson shot my way every few minutes.

When we reached the airport, Anderson pulled over and flashed his credentials at the parking attendant who was about to blow her whistle at us. I grabbed my duffel and followed Anderson in and immediately spotted Garcia waiting at the baggage check with a large bag and two suitcases at her feet.

"Hey, chickadee," she greeted, sounding only half as cheery as the last time I had seen her. "Come on, our flight leaves in a half hour and we still have to get through security."

"I called ahead," Anderson offered, taking one of the suitcases.

The agent led the way with Garcia and me falling in line. The airport wasn't super busy at five in the morning, but there was a line for the x-ray conveyor belt. Anderson bypassed that line and went for the gate marked for airline personnel guarded by a TSA guard.

"Special Agent Anderson, I called ahead about our two VIP passengers."

If the TSA guard had an opinion about the FBI flying a very nontraditional looking woman and a teenager on high priority, he didn't show it. Garcia flashed her own credentials to get her equipment through while her bag and my duffel went through the belt. Less than five minutes later, we were through and Anderson was able to walk us all the way to our terminal and gate.

Garcia and I were on our own once we were onboard, so I took the second suitcase and lifted it into the overhead storage.

"Want the window, sweetie?"

I shrugged. "Don't care."

Rather than get frustrated with my response, Garcia pulled me in for a quick hug. "I'm worried, too."

I gave her a shaky smile and then slipped into the window seat and stuck my bag under the seat in front of me. Garcia got in next to me, pulling out the safety instructions and apparently reading them. I fidgeted.

And we both fidgeted throughout the whole 90 minute flight. Luckily, the flight attendants were aware of our status and made sure we got off the plane first. Garcia kept up a brisk walk despite the bag and suitcase she was schlepping. I was close to panting just keeping up.

Hotch was waiting for us when we exited our second security check for the morning. I had been half-way expecting Dad to be there, but I still wasn't surprised that he wasn't.

"Do I get to find out what's going on now?" I asked after Hotch took the suitcase from me.

Both Hotch and Garcia looked at me incredulously. "Your father didn't tell you?" Hotch asked.

I just gave them both a look.

"Right, of course he didn't," Hotch agreed, leading the way out to the now cliché black SUV. Garcia took shotgun, leaving me in the back seat with the suitcases.

"Everyone is at Hankel's house," Hotch said as he pulled out onto a highway.

"Who is Hankel?" I asked.

Hotch met my eyes in the rear view mirror. "We think it's the same man who called you on Reid's phone."

"And what exactly has happened to Reid?" I demanded.

It took a full mile of driving before Hotch decided to answer me. "He's been abducted by Hankel."

It was seconds later that my brain caught up and processed what I had just heard. And on the heels of that, I started hyperventilating.

"Rachel!"

I could still realize that Hotch was pulling off to the side of the road.

"Keep driving," I gasped out. "Please, just keep driving."

Garcia kept up a steady stream of chatter, twisted around in her seat to watch me, but I didn't even pay attention to what she was saying. I didn't notice anything until Hotch turned a corner and I saw a large, shabby looking country house surrounded by animal pens, broken down farm equipment and an equally shabby looking barn. Hotch almost slammed on the brakes and leapt out of the car, coming to my door and opening it quickly. My breathing still wasn't back to normal, but I was able to get out with his help to lean against the car.

"Grab the bags, we're staying here until we find Reid," Hotch told Garcia, keeping a hand on my arm.

"There are hotels in Georgia, you know," she complained, but still did as Hotch said.

Suddenly, Hotch was gone and Dad was standing right in front of me, his hands on my face. I didn't even think before I blurted out, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Whether it was the profiler or father who figured out exactly what I meant, I'll never be able to tell. "I didn't want you to panic."

"Panic?" I repeated, my voice at least half an octave above normal. "Reid has been abducted, the jerk who did it apparently called me, and you order me to fly down to Georgia with no warning? What's there to panic about?"

"Rachel, please, I need you to calm down and listen to me. You are the only person who has spoken with Tobias Hankel with any real honesty." Dad's eyes bore into mine with intensity like I have never seen before. "We need you here, with us, trying to understand this man in order to find Reid. Please, for his sake, work with us."

"Of course I'm going to help," I snapped. At Dad's sharp look, I backed down. "What can I do?" I asked in a more level voice.

"Come inside."

I followed him in the house, feeling sick to my stomach just at the creak of the porch floorboards. Inside, I saw what could be a hoarder's dream with ancient furniture and stacks of notebooks and other possessions gathering dust. Around a round table were Hotch, a uniformed officer, and two women I didn't recognize, one blonde and one brunette.

Dad introduced the blonde as JJ the media liaison who looked absolutely shaken and a little destroyed. The other woman was Emily Prentiss who had apparently replaced Elle on the team. The uniform was introduced as Officer Mike Franks. I could hear Morgan and Garcia's voices in another room.

"Rachel, it's very important that you remember and tell us everything Hankel said to you, what words he used, his tone of voice, everything as exactly as you can," Dad explained, getting me to sit down at the table covered with notebooks and papers.

I looked around and saw a lot of religious items around the room and a quick glance at the papers showed me religious ramblings.

"Does this have to do with the videos going around the Internet?" I asked hesitantly.

Literally every single person's eyes zeroed in on me in a flash.

"You've seen the videos?" Dad asked sharply.

"Only the first one," I answered quickly. When Dad gave an almost imperceptible sigh of relief, I knew it was the right answer and I knew Michael had been right to tell me not to watch the second.

"Yes, Hankel is the one behind the videos," Dad confirmed. "He's been suffering from the delusion that he's also the archangel, Rafael, finding and punishing sinners."

"He didn't mention any of that," I said.

"And we need to find out why." Dad turned to the other agents. "Keep looking through his journals. I'll give Rachel a cognitive interview of the phone call."

Hotch eyed me carefully before turning to Dad. "Jason, you can't give your own daughter a cognitive interview. You're too emotionally involved."

"We're all emotionally involved for this," Dad retorted.

"You are also aware Rachel might respond better to someone other than her father in any kind of interview," Hotch pointed out.

Much as I wanted to stop them from talking about me like I wasn't there, I wasn't stupid enough to interrupt.

"Have Prentiss do the interview," Hotch suggested. "She's newest on the team and will be able to conduct the interview without any bias."

I looked at the woman in question, sizing her up. I had never met Elle, but I couldn't help but wonder if this woman was really part of the team. Dad had never mentioned her and Reid only once in passing.

Reid…

"Whatever you're going to do, whoever is going to do it, can we just get started please?" I finally burst out. And I got stared at by everyone in the room again.

Prentiss still waited for Dad's nod of permission before tilting her head at me in the direction of another room. With Dad also nodding at me, I followed her into the kitchen where we sat down at a table without any of the clutter of the first room.

"Are you ready for this?" she asked.

I laced my hands together in my lap and took a few deep breaths before responding.

"Ready."


	8. Deus Ex Machina, Part Two

Related episodes: 2.14 The Big Game, 2.15 Revelations

Deus Ex Machina II

"So, what is a cognitive interview?" I asked.

Emily Prentiss sat across from me at the kitchen table. We were in the house belonging to Tobias Hankel, who had abducted Reid and then called me in the middle of the night. I was the only person who has had contact with him, making me Valuable Resource Number One in the eyes of my father and his team of profilers.

"What I'm going to do is take you back to the phone call and see what else you can remember," Prentiss explained. She was the newest member of the team, supposedly making her the best choice for interviewing me. "We're hoping you'll be able to remember other details that you didn't notice before either because you were still waking up or didn't know what to listen for. Okay?"

I nodded my head. "Yeah. What do I do?"

Reid was Dad's protégé, a real live genius who had three PhD's by the time he was 22 years old. He was my tutor, my friend, and closer to me in a lot of ways than my own brothers. For him, I would tell her everything I could. To help find him, I was willing to spill every single dark and petty secret I had.

"Close your eyes and go back to last night when you were sleeping," Prentiss instructed, her voice soft and gentle. "Remember how the sheets felt around your body, the sounds of your bedroom and house. Think about what you smell."

I breathed deeply, imagining as instructed.

"You hear your phone ringing," Prentiss prompted me. "What is the first thing you notice?"

"I don't know," I answered. "I see that it's Reid calling me, so I wake up right away."

"Right away? You're not tired at all?"

"No. It has to be important if Reid was calling at that time of night."

"Okay. You answer the phone, wide awake, but it's not Reid. What do you hear?"

"I hear breathing, kind of heavy, like he's out of breath or something."

"What does he sound like? Is he nervous or confident?"

"Hesitant," I answer. "He sounds almost, shy."

Prentiss took me through the entire phone call, word for word. I didn't hear any highway noises or city noises. Hankel's voice is always soft and unsure. And he never directly answers any of my questions.

"What about the last thing he said to you?" she asked. "What do you remember the most about that?"

I thought about it for a moment, and in whatever kind of trance Prentiss was able to get me into, I also remember back farther into the night to my phone call with Michael.

"When he mentions his father," I realized. "He sounds scared. Not like normal, but really intimidated just talking about him."

It was how Michael sometimes sounded about his own father.

"Good, that's good. Rachel, you can open your eyes."

I blinked a few times, suddenly feeling like the light is too harsh. Looking around at the kitchen again, I really realize how bad this all is.

"You're going to find him, right?" I asked pathetically. "I know I didn't help that much, but you've got to find him."

Prentiss reached out across the table and grabbed my hands, holding them in hers. "You did really good, Rachel. And we will find Reid."

I started to shake, pulling my hands back to wrap my arms around myself and pulled my knees up to my chest like a child. Like he was conjured, Dad was right there with an arm around me and a hand caressing my head.

"We should have her listen to the other voices, just for confirmation," I heard Prentiss suggest quietly.

"In a few minutes," Dad replied.

I shook my head and broke free, wiping at my eyes which were suddenly moist. "No, right now."

I could tell Dad wasn't happy with that, but he didn't argue with me which told me I was right. Also, it told me that Hotch was right about Dad being too emotional to deal with me the way that they needed to.

Dad and Prentiss led me to another room which reminded me of Garcia's office, only more cluttered and messy with a lot more computer screens. Garcia herself was seated in front of them, Morgan standing near by.

"Garcia, pull up voice samples of Hankel, Rafael, and the third unidentified man," Dad said.

"Right on it, sir."

The first sample was actually the Internet video I had seen already and I now recognized the hooded man as the voice on Reid's phone. "That's him," I said.

I didn't, however, recognize the voice of Hankel's alter ego, Rafael, or the last voice except that it had also been on the video.

"All right, that's enough for now," Dad said. I hadn't noticed I had begun shaking again.

Dad brought me back to the front living room, placing me in an arm chair that was in the best condition. "I'll see when an officer can take you to the station and see about getting you a flight home," he told me.

"No. I want to stay."

If I hadn't already surprised Dad a few times in my life, this was certainly the most notable. But even though my skin was crawling every second I was in that house, I had to stay for Reid. I had to wait for him to be found. The only thing more impossible than staying, was leaving.

"Don't waste time on me," I argued. "I'll be quiet, I'll stay out of the way, I promise. I just—I can't leave Reid."

Dad stared for a long time, and it was only then I noticed Prentiss and Hotch were in the room with us because they had suddenly stopped talking to each other to watch Dad and me.

"Call your mother," was all Dad said, walking away.

I did call Mom, telling her that I needed to stick around in case they had any more questions for me. I didn't think it was too much a stretch, so it wasn't even a lie. Morgan slipped me a granola bar to eat before going outside for whatever reason and I spent the rest of the afternoon watching Dad, Hotch, Prentiss, and a whole slew of officers combing every inch of Hankel's house. I didn't really understand some of what they were looking for, but I kept my promise and stayed out of the way.

One thing I definitely picked up on, Hankel had father issues. I had picked up on it from the start, but watching Dad peel wall paper away to discover Hankel had written Honoram patram tuam over and over again like a kid doing lines after school really brought the point home.

I fell asleep in the chair as I sat quietly, almost believing everyone had forgotten me. But either the team was working in shifts or no one else could sleep because I woke up every few hours, unable to sleep for long, and whenever I did, there were still people searching for clues.

What woke me up permanently was when Morgan and Hotch discovered the body of Hankel's father, almost perfectly preserved in the cellar.

"If he was scared enough of his father to kill him, why is he still afraid of him?"

I hadn't even realized I had said that out loud until everyone in the room looked at me. I muttered a hasty apology and looked down, trying not to draw attention to myself.

"That's what we need to find out," Dad said, giving me a reassuring look. I relaxed just a little bit.

After the coroner left with the body, I watched the team gathered with the journals, attempting to figure out the answer to my question. What they found out was probably one of the freakiest things I had ever heard before, and I had been hearing about some of Dad's other cases for almost two years.

Hankel had killed his father, at his father's own request, but then somehow his father was able to still write his own journals.

"So, you're telling me that one of Tobias' personalities is his own father?" Officer Franks asked, sounding as disbelieving as I felt. But Dad and Hotch explained that the moral contradiction of Hankel killing his father forced his personality to split to keep his father alive.

"Then who is Rafael?" Franks asked, clearly still confused.

But I wasn't. "Rafael is the Judge," I said, earning me the looks of everyone in the room again. "It's like in an episode of Batman, with Two-Face."

"Rachel—" Dad tried to interrupt me.

"I know what I'm talking about," I protested, speaking faster to get my point across. "Harvey Dent was a prosecutor, Two-Face a criminal, split personalities just like Hankel. But it was too much strain and conflict, so a third personality was created to mediate, the Judge."

Absolute silence followed.

"An angel doesn't have human emotions," Dad said slowly, watching me carefully. "As long as it's God's will, that's all that matters."

Very quickly, Morgan went off to Garcia to check out something on the computers, and JJ and Prentiss returned from their errand, whatever it was. All the agents and officers were catching up with each other when Morgan shouted.

I raced after the adults, running to the side so that I could see the screens which were now displaying a video. Seated in the chair, centered on the screen, was Reid. All the others started talking, making observations, but I didn't pay attention. All I knew was that half of Reid's face was bloody, he was handcuffed to the chair, but he was alive.

In their focus on Reid, everyone forgot I was there with them, watching as Reid was forced by Hankel, the voice of his father, to choose someone to die. Even though he refused at first, once Hankel promised that he would give warning, Reid chose. Even after Dad called the woman at the address Hankel had given, everyone was on edge, waiting for a 911 call.

When the call came in that a couple had been murdered at another address, they all flew out of the house, leaving behind a handful of cops, Garcia, and me. It was Garcia who finally noticed me.

"Come here, honey."

I went to her arms gratefully, trembling and holding back tears.

"We should send you home," she told me. "You don't need to be here any more."

I shook my head. "Not until Reid is safe."

Garcia squeezed before letting me go. "Then let's find some cocoa."

There wasn't any hot chocolate in the kitchen, but there was milk and chocolate syrup in the fridge. By the time Dad and the others were back, I had dragged my armchair into the den with Garcia and sat there munching on peanut butter crackers and fruit snacks. Despite the fact I hadn't gotten a full night's sleep for the previous two nights, I didn't feel the slightest bit tired as it started to get dark.

The team had scattered once they got back, each of them recharging in their own fashion. I had just called my mom for the evening when JJ walked in, demanding to watch the video of the latest killing. I hadn't followed a lot of the technical stuff earlier in the day, but I had it worked out that Garcia couldn't trace where Hankel was, but that he could use his recently stolen computers to upload his videos to the home system and then remotely send them out online.

JJ won her argument with Garcia who cued up the tape and then led me out of the room. "I won't watch it and you don't need to see it," she told me after closing the door. I wasn't going to protest that. Dad found us standing in the hall way.

He was still in agent mode, so he didn't hug me or anything, but he did put his hand on my shoulder with a firm grip.

"You won't go home?" he asked, but it was more like a statement.

I shook my head. "Can't," I said simply.

He wanted to argue, I could tell. I'm surprised he didn't. But he only followed Garcia and me back into the den after JJ left, headed for the kitchen. I settled in my chair again, curled up tightly, while Garcia did whatever it was she did on the computers, with Dad watching.

"He's posted the video online," Garcia announced.

"Stop it," Dad ordered.

"I can't, it's already out there."

"I just don't understand why you can't get rid of it, just erase it."

"It's like a rumor in school, Dad," I cut in. "You can go back and get the first person to stop spreading it, but it's already been passed around. You can't take it back."

"Can you please do something," Dad demanded. "I don't want this guy thinking he has a pulpit."

"Um, yes," Garcia stuttered. "I can use the forward chain and send out a mass warning that it's actually a virus."

I got up and walked over to watch, and no sooner than I did, another video popped up on the screen.

"This ends now."

It was Hankel again with Reid. It didn't take a profiler to guess that Hankel was pissed off about Garcia's virus warning. I couldn't help but let out a tiny shriek when Hankel hit Reid, flinching as if I could feel it myself. Dad pulled me in close to him with one arm, his other hand on Garcia's shoulder, both of us trembling as Hankel demanded for Reid to confess his sins, hitting him each time he refused. With each hit, I jumped, but I knew that if Reid actually admitted he had committed a sin, he would die.

Then Hankel hit Reid so hard, his chair flipped over backwards. Dad pulled me in tighter so that my face was buried in his shirt.

"Don't watch, don't watch."

Even though I couldn't see what was happening, I could hear Reid choking for long, awful moments until it stopped abruptly. By then, the rest of the team had come in, just in time to watch him die.

Dad dragged me out of the room, holding me while I cried. He was saying something that I couldn't hear, but whether it was to himself or to me, I couldn't tell. I did hear when Hotch came out and called Dad back.

CPR. I knew from Reid that it only actually works 11 percent of the time outside a hospital. But there was Hankel, who had just killed him, bringing him back to life. While I stared in shock at the screen, somehow the team started working out that between the time of the murders and the video upload, they figured out a search radius. Before they could leave, Hankel started talking on the video again. Only this time, he sounded like Rafael.

Given I had next to no religious upbringing, I couldn't follow a lot of what he said. But I did understand when Hotch made the comparison.

"He thinks it's Revelations when the seven archangels will fight against the seven angels of Hell."

It didn't strike me as coincidence that Dad's team has seven members. And then Hankel told Reid to choose one of the team members to die while pointing a revolver at his head. When Reid refused, Hankel pulled the trigger. I flinched, but the gun only clicked on an empty barrel. Three more times it happened, and each time I flinched; Reid never did. Finally, he gave an answer.

"I chose….Aaron Hotchner. He's a classic narcissist, puts himself before the team."

Every one of us looked at Hotch who had frozen, but otherwise didn't react. I looked back at the screen in time to watch Hankel point the revolver at the wall behind Reid and fire one last time. This time, there was a bullet. I realized that Reid had been calculating the probabilities in his head and knew when he couldn't afford not to answer.

Hotch left the room, Dad, Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ following.

"He doesn't mean it," I said.

Garcia turned in her chair to look at me. "Of course he doesn't, sweetie."

"No, I mean, he's still thinking, he's planning, he's trying to help you guys find him," I explained. "It was a clue."

When the team came back and said that the Bible quote Reid had said was actually talking about cemeteries and not what he had said, I almost cheered. After that, it was like all the pieces of the puzzle fell in the right spots as they found the report of poaching and the reference to Marshall from Hankel's journals, all in the search radius they had already worked out.

They were gone before I realized they had a location, leaving me behind with Garcia again. I paced back and forth until I had to collapse from exhaustion. It was a couple hours later that Garcia shook me awake.

"They found him," was all she said, but with the relief in her voice and the smile on her face, I couldn't help but smile back. "Now, let's go home."

I helped her pack up and then an officer drove us to the airport where the team's jet was waiting. After taking the bags on board, we both got out and waited on the tarmac for the others to arrive. It was almost dawn by the time they drove up. When I saw Hotch help Reid out of the SUV, I broke away from Garcia and sprinted for him, stopping just inches away. Someone must have told him I was there because he didn't look surprised to see me.

I wanted nothing more than to hug him, touch him just to make sure he was alive and in one piece, but typically, Reid didn't like to be touched at all and I had no idea how hurt he was. While I stood there like an idiot, Reid figured out what was wrong.

He had to hunch over, being so much taller than I am, but somehow, Reid wrapped his arms around me. I hugged back, trying to balance between squeezing the life out of him and being gentle. And if he had to lean on me to keep upright, I didn't mind at all.

Before I could start crying again, I pulled away and looked up into his face. "Don't do that again," I ordered, sniffing back tears. "How am I going to get another A in geometry without you?"

Reid chuckled, it was weak, but it was a chuckle. I even saw Hotch quirk a small smile.

"Come on, let's go home," Dad said, coming up to us. "We still need to go to a hospital."

On the plane, I fell asleep leaning against Dad's shoulder while Reid stretched out on the couch and the others spread around in other seats, all keep Reid in their sight. I slept in the car as Dad drove me home from the airport. And after I was nearly suffocated by Mom, I went to my room and slept for the whole day. When I woke up, Mom had take-out cheeseburgers, fries, and onion rings ready and waiting.

We ate at the table and even though I should have been fully rested, I was propping my head up on my hand in order to eat.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Mom asked.

I thought while I chewed and swallowed. "No," I answered. It was still too fresh and too much to talk about.

"You can skip school tomorrow if you want," Mom offered.

"No," I said again. "I should get back, I've already missed three days."

"If you're sure, sweetie."

I wasn't sure at all. I had just been through the worst three days of my life. I had finally seen the worst of what my father faced regularly and somehow, I had come through it. I wasn't deluded enough to think I wasn't now effected or scarred inside, and I wasn't looking forward to the new nightmares headed my way.

But Reid was alive. And that was enough.


	9. Rallentando

Rallentando-broadening of the tempo, progressively slower

I flopped onto the ground beneath me, heedless to the possible grass stains and turned my face up to the shining sunlight.

"You look like a sun-bathing turtle," a voice commented behind me.

"If you want the second sandwich in my lunch bag, you'll revise that statement," I countered, without turning around.

There was a pause before, "You look like a blossoming flower, opening its delicate petals to catch the sun's golden rays."

"Better, if a little florid for my tastes."

Michael joined me on the grass, lounging as only a teenaged boy can. He reached out and flicked my ear. "Should I go back to the turtle?"

"Split the difference," I retorted, struggling and failing to keep the smile off my face. I pulled my lunch bag into my lap, upending its contents between us: two chicken salad sandwiches, a bag of Chex Mix, a bag of grapes, and the last of my homemade brownies with mint fudge frosting.

Michael opened one of the sandwiches, biting into the wheat bread as if he hadn't had food for a while. For all I knew, he hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday which is why I had started double-packing my lunch at the beginning of the year.

Out on the lawn in front of the school, Mark and some of his friends were kicking a soccer ball around, also enjoying the fresh, spring weather. I had already kissed him hello before sending him off to play.

I ate my own sandwich and then split everything else with Michael who, in turn, shared his Dr. Pepper, except for the brownie. Michael left before I could offer it to him, saying he had a paper to write since he had work at the auto shop that day after school. So I polished off the brownie on my own as I watched him walk away.

I was reading ahead for English when Mark came over and collapsed next to me, sweaty and warm. I looked over at him and smiled.

"You're getting out of shape," I teased. "A twenty minute game shouldn't tire you out this much."

Mark reached up and dragged me down, kissing me, licking the last brownie crumbs off my lips. I pulled away.

"No PDA on the lawn," I explained. There were rules, of course.

"Come home with me after pit band today," Mark said, sitting upright. "My mom keeps asking."

"Sure," I agreed. "I'll call Mom after school and let her know."

My afternoon went quickly, as did rehearsal for The King and I. Mrs. Amborn picked Mark and me up, asking how our days had been. As far as I knew, the Amborns were cool with Mark dating me, unlike with me where Mom was okay with it and Dad hadn't come around yet. There's a reason Mark never comes over to my house whenever Dad could show up.

Dinner was roasted chicken with vegetables and mashed potatoes. Mr. and Mrs. Amborn talked about average, typical things like the stock market, the veterinarian for their collie, and how many tickets to pre-order for the musical. Normalcy at its finest.

My parents didn't think to ask about tickets for another few days, despite the fact that a form had gone home a week ago and that opening night was two weeks away. Not like I was surprised, though. I was also not going to hope that Dad could make it after last year's no-show.

With both of his parents home, Mark and I played it safe and just watched some TV, sitting close to each other on the couch, but nothing more daring than you would find in a PG movie.

It had been over two months since Dad had called me down to Georgia in the middle of the night. Two months since I had sat in a ramshackle ruin of a house, critically analyzing a five minute phone call in order to figure out where Reid was. And two months since I had watched him die on a computer screen, be brought back to life, and then rescued by Dad, Hotch, and their team.

I hadn't spoken to any one about what I had been through, including Mom, Dad, and Michael. Despite a slightly higher frequency of nightmares, I was focused on school and friends. Some days were better than others, but this was one of my good days and I wasn't going to dwell on the bad ones.

But Mom and Dad were different with each other. It wasn't so much in obvious ways. Dad still came over for dinner some nights, they still talked to each other the way they used to. Only there were little moments I was sure I wasn't supposed to see when Mom would suddenly stop whatever she was saying and look away. Dad would let her, staring at her sadly until Mom either started talking again or wave him off when he would leave.

There wasn't anything I could do about it, so I tried not to let it bother me. Keeping busy was the best tactic I had, so between school, hanging out with Mark and Alicia, and pit band practice, most nights, I was tired enough to sleep without dreaming at all. Mom and Dad kept things normal between them whenever I was around, so I didn't ask about how they had changed.

Finally, a week before the show, Mom ordered tickets for herself, Dad, Hotch and Haley, and Garcia. I noticed one glaring exception.

"Can't Reid come?" I asked one night at dinner. Granted, it was a late dinner since it was tech week and I hadn't gotten home until almost 8 that night. Dad had also come over.

"Not this year, Rae," he told me in his 'drop it' voice.

I did, sort of. "Is he okay?"

"He will be."

I couldn't imagine what Reid was going through, just based off of what I had seen which even I considered the kiddie version. There had been a lot going on those few days that Dad and the team had kept from me and I was grateful for it.

When it came time for opening night, I tried to keep my expectations low. I was not going to look around for Dad this year. If he was here, I would see him later with Mom. If he wasn't, then I didn't want to know until the show was over.

But Alicia was on the look out for her own family, giddy because it was her first year in pit band. "Rachel, I see your parents!"

I hopped up on the chair she was using and spotted all five of the people I had been expecting. There were all there, sitting in a row up in the balcony. Hotch and Haley were glancing through the program, Mom was talking with Garcia, and Dad was staring right at me, with a smile on his face. I was beaming, I had to be. He had actually made it.

Then Mr. Rose entered the pit, directing us all to our chairs, so Alicia and I separated to our sections. Any time I wasn't playing, I was smiling. Rogers and Hammerstein may have filled my mind, but my family was in my heart.

In the crush afterwards, I pushed my way through, practically leaping at Dad who caught me easily. Mom turned it into a three-way embrace and I was so happy, I stopped thinking about anything else at all.

"Hey, hey, hey, parents get to hug every day, I don't," Garcia interrupted. I had about a second to breathe before her arms engulfed me. "It was gorgeous, chickadee. Absolutely gorgeous."

Hotch and Haley only had time to give me their compliments and then run; they had left Jack with Haley's sister Jessica to babysit for the evening. After that, Garcia made her farewells, leaving me with Mom and Dad. As it was a school night, Mom and I headed home after Dad kissed us both good night.

Mom came again the second night, Dad again on the third and last. Then, on Sunday morning, Dad came and surprised Mom and me with making brunch, Belgium waffles with sausage links and fruit salad. After cleaning up, I found he still had both programs with him in his brief case.

"Hey, Dad, give one to Reid," I said. "Tell him it's okay."

I had received a text Friday night with an apology from Reid. Dad promised and gave me a tight hug.

With the musical done, I had more time on my hands, but I filled the void with Michael, Alicia, and Mark. There was also the increased school load right before spring break and mid-terms to deal with. Life as a teenager had taken over again.

And life as a teenager included sleepovers and study sessions. The weekend before most of our midterms, Alicia, Liz, and a few other girls and I all got together at Alicia's house. Her parents were encouraging the studying especially since they were desperately hoping Alicia would raise her GPA this year.

"I really hate mitosis," Alicia complained, looking through the diagrams in our textbook.

I was seated next to her, helping her tell the difference between the different phases.

"Hate it all you want, you've got to know it," I chided.

She rolled her eyes, huffed out her breath in exaggerated frustration and then bent over the text again. "All right, all right. Talk me through it again."

While I was working on biology with Alicia, Liz and the others were tackling Shakespeare. We had read Romeo and Juliet earlier in the year and then allowed to choose a second work to read on our own. Because we were teenaged girls, we were watching the Leonardo Dicaprio movie while we studied with the volume turned down so Alicia's parents didn't catch on.

About an hour later, we were taking a break and demolishing the pizzas the Burkes had ordered for dinner.

"We should move on to math after we finish eating," Alicia proposed, taking a gulp of her Coke.

"If it's algebra, just ask Rachel," Liz informed the group. "And even though you claim not to like geometry, I've seen your homework get handed back to you. High scores every time."

I rolled my eyes. "I have a very good tutor, that's all."

"Who is it, and can I get on the list?" Liz asked, half joking.

"Don't bother," Alicia answered for me. "Her dad has this super genius working for him at the FBI. He helps Rachel all the time even though she doesn't need it half the time."

Maybe I was hanging out with Reid and Dad too much, but by the looks being traded around our circle, the other girls heard the hint of resentment in Alicia's voice.

"Reid likes homework and school," I explained. "He has more fun watching me do my homework than most people do watching sports. Then, he likes to tell me what else he knows about whatever I'm working on. Then I apply it myself. It's not like he does the work for me."

Okay, maybe that was a sharper dig at Alicia than I should have made, but I was putting up with her criticism about Michael already. And for all the age difference, I was just as protective of Reid, even more after all that's happened.

"Yeah, he looks like he should be a teacher, not an FBI agent," Alicia commented. "A really geeky teacher."

"He's a good agent," I defended him sharply, silently begging Alicia to drop it. "For the unit he's in, it's better to be smart than athletic."

"The geeks will inherit the earth," Liz chimed in with a disarming smile. "Now, about those equations…"

I could have kissed her. Liz was the ultimate mediator of our group to the point that most of us referred to her as our mother.

Around midnight, we decided enough was enough and turned on The Prince and Me to decompress before we could sleep. My brain felt stuffed to overflowing with equations, factoids, and other subjects. In addition to that, my brain was also spinning with frustration at Alicia. It was getting harder and harder to be her friend but I had no idea what to do about it. How do you tell someone who's been your best friend since third grade that you don't want to be their friend any more?

But it was how she never let me alone about Michael, or how she was still jealous that I had a boyfriend and she didn't. Whenever I disagreed with her, whenever I couldn't or wouldn't go along with what she wanted, she acted like it was the end of the world. Like when I don't feel like driving her to the mall or have to cancel plans because of Dad or Mom.

Her coming after Reid now was definitely crossing the line. But, I tried to remind myself, she didn't know what had happened. None of my friends knew why I had missed almost the first week of second semester, though Michael suspected I think.

So, once I had mid-terms out of the way, I talked to Mom. One night after dinner when we were debating bowls of ice cream, I spilled the whole thing out. At the end, Mom just sat there in silence for a few moments before reaching over and pulling me into a hug. I wasn't to the point of crying, yet, but when she settled back into the sofa, keeping me in her arms, I cuddled closer.

"I don't know what to do," I repeated.

"Well, that's a tough one, sweetie," Mom admitted, giving me a little squeeze. "What do you think the right thing to do is?"

I sighed. Of course she couldn't just give me an easy answer. "Option A: I tell Alicia we don't have anything in common anymore and I don't think she's being a good friend. She gets ticked off, doesn't speak to me ever again and maybe makes things uncomfortable with our other friends. Option B: I keep my mouth shut, put up with her for two more years and hope that college helps pull us apart." I looked up into Mom's face. "Neither of those seem like the right choice."

Mom merely raised her eyebrows.

"Okay fine," I said. "I should be honest, but I don't want to just tell her to take a hike."

"That's not what you would be doing and you know it," Mom chided me. "Rachel, there are people that will come into your life and won't stay in your life forever. Relationships are all different. They're not all easy, but you need have understanding and trust to make them work."

"And I feel like Alicia hasn't understood me for a long time," I added.

"It happens, sweetie. Look at me and your dad. We were very close and then we went our separate ways."

I sat up so that I could sit and face her straight on. "If I hadn't been born, would you and Dad ever have gotten back together?"

Mom took a long while to answer and I wasn't even sure I would get an answer.

"I don't know, sweetie," she finally said. "Your father and I had our time together and it didn't last. There were reasons for that, very relevant reasons. You know we both love you very much. When we talked about what to do, before you were born, those reasons came up again. And that's why we decided that while you deserved to know both of your parents, we wouldn't pursue our relationship again."

"And you've stuck to that all these years?" I asked, somewhat skeptical. After all, I had seen other kids with parents who were separated or divorced. Mom and Dad didn't act like a typical split couple for whatever reason. They spent time together, talked together, argued in ways that weren't just about me.

Mom paused again, closing her eyes, and then pulled me in close for another embrace. "It's complicated, like most relationships, as you are just now figuring out. With as many years as your father and I have known each other and with the type of life your father lives, it just gets more complicated."

She kissed my forehead and let me sit up.

"Now, the only thing you can do is be honest with Alicia. I'm not too thrilled about your friendship with this Michael, either, but as long as you're being smart, I can't complain."

"Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome, sweetie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rachel is not going to learn about Reid's drug addiction. At least, not this year or any time soon. First of all, if Reid was cutting the team out of his life as he was at first, that would apply to Rachel as well. Secondly, if Gideon and Hotch didn't even discuss it amongst themselves, again, that would apply to Rachel. Also, I'm being slightly cowardly and I didn't want to have to deal with it, even through Rachel. It's a sensitive subject for many people, and with what we all know is coming later on for Rachel, I'm not going to add to the upcoming drama and angst.
> 
> A word about friendship. As romantic as the idea is, having a life-long best friend, it doesn't happen all that often that I've seen. I still remember my best friend in kindergarten, but we drifted apart by third grade. Out of my friends from middle school and high school, I only keep in contact with 2 of them, and that's difficult enough as it is. That's kind of the point that I'm making with Rachel. She and Alicia started out as great friends when friendship is much simpler. But Rachel is maturing much faster than Alicia, and is forming more meaningful relationships, like with some of the team members (ie, Reid and Garcia) and with Michael. It's a fact of life and I believe that it's important to write as I characterize Rachel and show her growing up and facing hard decisions. Making everything easy for her cheapens her, and I won't do that to my characters.


	10. Bach's St. Matthew Passion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Considering the emotional tones at the end of this chapter, I thought I would put my notes here at the beginning.
> 
> First of all, thank you all so much for the uptick in reviews for the last two chapters. Dare I ask the trend to carry on? It really, truly means so much to me. I know I skipped at least seven episodes, but I couldn't do a lot with those episodes in particular. I must admit, season 2 is probably my least favorite season, so I thought I would just cut to the chase.
> 
> I chose this chapter title for two reasons. Firstly, I was working on this massive undertaking at my church choir at the time I was writing it. Second, it was really hard to ignore the whole "sacrifice" thing. If you're at all interested in sacred choral music, I cannot recommend enough listening to the final movement, "Here at thy grave." It is stunningly provocative and gorgeous.
> 
> And now, the long awaited...

Related episode: 2.23 No Way Out, Part II: the Evilution of Frank

Bach's St. Matthew Passion-regarded as one of Bach's most superb works of music, double choirs and orchestras plus soloists are utilized to play out the Passion story from Matthew's Gospel

I looked in the mirror in the girls' locker room and gave up on a lost cause. We were training for the in-school triathlon, mandatory for all PE students, and this was our swimming week. And once again, the only thing I could do with wet hair in the time I had was wind it all up into a sloppy bun and comb it out when I got home. At least I had PE as my second to last period, so once orchestra was done, I was able to pack up quickly and try to catch the bus.

I hadn't gotten up the nerve to talk to Alicia yet, so I felt awkward asking her mom to drive me home when I needed it. With Mark at practice and Michael at work, I was stuck with public transportation whenever Mom had work.

I caught the bus just in time and put the ear phones of my iPod in, tuning out the noise with Stravinsky's Firebird Suite. All five movements took up the 20 minute ride to the point when I walked in the front door of my house. I took my back pack downstairs to my room, tossing it on my bed. The vibrations roused Hannah from her napping spot on my pillows. She stood up and gave a good shake, voicing her complaints at being disturbed.

With a smile, I swept her up into my arms, rubbing my cheek against her head. Hannah purred and then batted her paw at my face. I got the hint.

"Okay, okay, dinner's coming."

I got Hannah her food and refilled her water bowl. Once my cat was happily eating, I unloaded my books and gathered my clothes to get started on the laundry. I grabbed Mom's hamper from upstairs, sorted, and got a load started.

Once that was done, I checked the fridge to get a head start on dinner. The pickings were slim, but I could make up some pasta carbonara whenever Mom and I got hungry. Then I remembered Dad was coming over that night so I pulled out my cell phone.

"Dad, you need to stop at the store and pick up something for dinner, we've got nothing."

"All right, I'll see what looks good. Any requests?"

"No chicken, we've had that almost all this week."

"And I'll see about picking up a cheesecake," Dad offered. I could hear the smile over the phone.

"I love you, Dad."

"I love you, too, Rae. I'll see you later tonight."

I had swapped out loads by the time Mom came home from the treatment center. After asking about my day, Mom changed into sweatpants and a long sleeved tee shirt, tossing her suit and blouse into the sorted piles in the basement. While waiting for Dad, Mom sat on the couch with the day's paper while I cracked open the first Twilight book. Everyone was talking about it, so I was giving it a try.

Sometime after five, the door bell rang.

"That's probably Dad with groceries," I said, sticking a bookmark in my spot and getting to my feet.

It wasn't until I was opening the door that I wondered why Dad would ring the bell when he had a key and with both of us home, the door was probably still unlocked. Just as I thought maybe Dad's arms were just full of grocery bags, I saw that the man at the door wasn't Dad.

"Hello."

Before I could open my mouth to ask who he was or what he wanted, he surged forward and grabbed me, one arm wrapping around my shoulders and spinning me around.

"Rachel? Jason?"

I saw Mom get up and race for the front hall just as I heard the man kick the door shut behind him. I struggled against his hold, but in addition to being tall and strong, he didn't seem to notice as I tried to stomp on his feet.

"What are you doing? Let her go!" Mom shouted.

"Not yet," the man answered calmly. "You will do exactly as I say, or this lovely young lady will learn how quickly a scalpel can cut."

I felt a tiny prick of metal on the skin of my neck and froze. I still couldn't see the man, but I could plainly see Mom, standing a few feet away with her arm raised toward me. Her eyes were wide, but where I felt like panicking, she appeared calm.

"Please, don't hurt her, please. I'll do whatever you tell me."

"Wonderful. Let's go somewhere more private."

At the man's nod of direction, Mom walked down the hall to her bedroom, trying to keep us in sight as the man walked with me still trapped by his arm. I wanted to panic. I wanted to scream and fight, but even though I started breathing faster, I tried to squelch down my fear. Dad was on his way, I reminded myself. He would save us. He would walk in and talk down the psychopath threatening to kill me just like he did every day.

Mom must have been thinking the same thing, which is why she was so calm and going along with him. She used the rope he gave her to tie my hands and feet, her hands squeezing mine whenever she could to reassure me.

"I had wondered if Jason had such a woman at his side," the man said, keeping me close to his body, still with the scalpel at my neck. "Sit down. Let's chat."

Mom sat, balling her hands into the bedspread on either side of her.

"Do you know who I am?"

"I know who you are," Mom told him.

"Good. That makes this simpler."

Mom looked at me once before fixing her attention on the man behind me. "Don't make her watch, please. I know what you're going to do, just don't make her watch."

"This is Jason's daughter, yes?" he asked.

Mom only nodded, her eyes starting to fill with tears.

"Very well."

The man let go and, caught off guard, I fell to the floor, unable to even catch myself. When I looked up, he was straightening up from leaning over my mom, coming away with an empty syringe in his hands. Mom was now sprawled on the bed, eyes open but not moving.

I struggled to get to my knees. "Mom! Mom!"

Reaching for her, my fingers just brushed against her hand when the man came back to me, pulling me away. The scalpel was beside Mom on the bed, so I fought back, but I was no match being tied up. I kept screaming and struggling any way.

The man pulled me across the hall to Mom's office, pushing me into her desk chair. Then he stood over me, watching me like I was something to study.

"Who are you?" I demanded. Mom knew him, but I had no idea.

His head tilted to the side in fascination. "My name is Frank. What is your name?"

I didn't answer. Somehow, this man, Frank, knew Dad and knew where we lived. I couldn't understand why he didn't know my name.

He knelt so that our eyes were on the same level. "Your mother's name and address was in your father's address book. He has a picture of you in his apartment. All I want to know is your name."

Dad was on his way, he had to be. And as long as we were talking, Frank wasn't hurting us, giving Dad time to get here. "Rachel," I answered softly.

He smiled and I shivered. There was nothing warm or comforting about that smile.

"Rachel," he repeated. "Jacob's second wife, his favorite, just as it was her son who was Jacob's favored son. Are you your father's favorite child?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "Why do you care?"

"Your father and I have a history," Frank explained. His face then hardened. "He has something that I want, someone I care for more than anything else in the world."

I felt a spike of fear go through me as I realized what Frank had in mind. I suddenly felt tears run down my cheeks. Frank reached out and wiped them away even as I flinched away from his touch.

"I do not harm children," he told me with a smile. "You are safe from me."

He stood up abruptly and left the room, closing the door behind him. He was back in seconds with a roll of duct tape, ripping off a piece and applying it to my mouth. Once he was gone the second time, I struggled to my feet, hopping over to the door and slamming against it. Something was blocking it shut, keeping me trapped inside. I kept at it for a few minutes before I fell over again. I couldn't hear anything from Mom's room.

It seemed like only minutes later Frank entered the room again and my eyes zeroed in on the blood stains on his shirt and hands.

No. No, no, no, no, no…

Frank lifted me off the floor and put me in the chair again. I tried to gulp in air through my nose, shaking my head in denial.

"Hush, now. It's almost over," Frank assured me, removing the duct tape.

"No!" I screamed. "You're a sick, evil monster and my dad is going to catch you and put you away for the rest of your life!"

Frank seized my shoulders and shook me hard until my teeth rattled.

"Your father has always been one step behind me. He couldn't stop me before, he can't stop me now."

Dad was too late. And with that, all the energy seemed to drain out of my body and I drooped in the chair. I couldn't think to do anything else. Face to face with someone Dad encountered every day, I knew I was absolutely powerless.

"Now, I'm going to give you a gift and we are going to call your father."

Frank gagged me with the tape again and then pulled out Mom's phone from his pocket and hit a number on speed dial. While I sat in numb shock, he pressed another button to put it on speaker phone.

"Sarah? I'm on my way. Work ran late today so I only just made it to the store," Dad's voice sounded.

"Jason, it's been a pleasure to meet your family," Frank said.

"Who is this?"

"Your daughter especially, such a beautiful young girl," Frank continued, staring at me steadily.

Dad's voice changed. "Don't hurt her," he begged. I had never heard my father beg before. "She's innocent, she's done nothing to you."

"I wonder if, when she's grown, you'll push her out of the nest like the birds you admire so much to see if she can fly."

"Please, Frank, please don't involve her in this."

"Have you seen my Jane lately?" Frank asked. "I know she came here, to Washington. To find you." His face hardened, and I was certain I was going to die. "I want her back."

Frank snapped the phone shut savagely, tossing it on the floor by my feet. All his easy charm that had been present moments ago was gone, leaving only cruelty. I screamed into the tape and flinched away when Frank reached out and placed something between my bound hands.

Before I could think, Frank was gone again without another word. I held my breath, waiting to see if he would come back, but when I heard the front door open and close, I gave in to my panic attack, hyperventilating and sobbing in equal measure.

Then I saw that he had left both the office and bedroom doors open, giving me a perfect view into Mom's room. What I saw there, I couldn't process at first. I saw it, but I couldn't think about what it meant. It couldn't possibly be what I thought it was. It was a trick of my mind, some horrible nightmare that couldn't be true.

Minutes later—maybe—the front door burst open, followed by pounding footsteps at a quick pace. I watched as Dad sprinted to Mom's room only to fall to his knees by the bed. I couldn't hear what he said, but I heard him gasping for air and choking down sobs. Dads weren't supposed to cry.

Snot, tears, and re-use helped me work the tape free of my mouth.

"Dad…"

He spun around, jumping to his feet at the same time. "Rachel!"

His hands on my face felt burning hot but then he was feeling all over me, making sure I wasn't hurt, I guess. Dad pulled me in for a suffocating hug, shaking as much as I was.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he muttered over and over.

It was only when I kept shaking that Dad leaned back, looking into my face with tears in his eyes.

"Rachel? Can you hear me?"

I nodded, but when I looked over his shoulder, I started sobbing again. With blood now staining Dad's shirt, I couldn't deny it any longer.

"She's dead," I choked out. "He just, killed her. She's dead."

Still voicing apologies, Dad started to untie the rope around my ankles and wrists. When he pried my hands open, we found what Frank had left there.

"Oh my God."

With next to nothing in my stomach, I threw up bile and acid, hunched over to the side of the chair. Dad dropped the bloody bone to the floor to keep me supported and pulled my hair out of my face. After that, I still felt sick.

Dad pulled me to my feet, both arms still wrapped around me. "We need to go."

"But Mom—"

Dad stopped still and brought a hand up to his face. "She's gone, Rachel, and Frank is still out there."

That name was enough to get me going, following almost blindly as Dad propelled us out the door and into his SUV in the driveway. By this point, I was shivering, even when Dad cranked on the heat. Dad drove aimlessly around for over an hour before finding a relatively empty parking lot. While I pulled my legs up to curl into a ball in the seat, Dad got out of the car.

"Don't leave," I asked, reaching out to grab his sleeve. "Please, don't leave."

Dad got back in, leaning across the console to rub his hand over my cheek and then leaving it curled around my neck. "I need to call Hotch. You can see me at the pay phone right there. I'll be right back, I promise."

I nodded and then curled inward even tighter when he left. Through the windshield, I watched him talking into the phone, sometimes pausing to hit the side of the booth or lean against the door. Minutes later, he hung up and walked back to the car, getting in but not starting it up again.

"The police think that I—they don't know about Frank. Garcia is going to come pick us up and take us someplace safe."

Safe. That was a joke. I would never feel safe again.

"I thought it was you at the door," I confessed quietly. "He just came in and I couldn't do anything about it." I looked straight into Dad's eyes, suddenly gone blurry with fresh tears in my eyes. "He cut her. He, he, there was so much blood."

I buried my head in my arms, soaking my skin and sobbing. Dad was talking to me, but I didn't understand what he was saying. He pulled me over to him awkwardly, but I didn't care as he tried to rock me.

"I kept thinking you would come and stop him," I whispered.

"If I hadn't been late…" Dad said. "I never thought he would come after you. Never. It's all my fault, I'm sorry."

"Why?" I demanded. "Why did he kill her?"

"Because he can't stop killing," Dad answered.

He still didn't tell me who Frank was, how they had met and what had happened between them. He didn't tell me who Jane was and why Frank seemed to think that Dad was keeping her from him. There was nothing I understood except for the fact that my mother was dead.


	11. Schenkarian Analysis

Related episode: No Way Out, Part II: the Evilution of Frank

Schenkerian analysis-the method of musical analysis, designed by Heinrich Schenker, in order to interpret the underlying structure of tonal music

I had stopped crying by the time Garcia pulled up in a vintage convertible. She leaped out of the car and came to my door, yanking it open, and pulled me into her arms.

"Oh, honey."

I couldn't summon up the energy for more tears, but I did hug her back, holding on to the woman like a life raft. She didn't bother telling me everything would be okay, she just held me tight.

"Garcia," Dad broke in.

I felt her head look up, but that was all that she moved. "I brought the case files, sir, and the spare change of clothes from your office."

Dad nodded curtly. "Let's go."

With one last squeeze, Garcia let me go and got into the driver's seat. Dad led me by the hand to the back seat, opening the door, and buckling my seat belt for me as if I was a child. I let him. Once he was in the front seat, Dad gave Garcia instructions in a low voice, but I wasn't listening any more. With the top down, the wind rushed in my ears and through my hair. I was suddenly reminded that I hadn't combed out my hair yet. I looked at the watch on my wrist and saw it was only a little after eight. So little time had passed. Then I saw the blood stains on my hands and began to shake.

I felt like I was freezing by the time Garcia was pulling into the parking lot at the Smithsonian and I could barely walk even with Dad supporting me while Garcia brought in her traveling case. Dad's friend, Dr. Daniel Allenberg, met us at the entrance, walked us past the empty security post and down a hall of the museum.

The first place we stopped was at the bathroom doors. Garcia followed me into the girl's. In the mirror, I saw a nightmare. My hair was a hopeless tangle, my eyes red and my cheeks chapped from the wind and tape burn. My shirt was dotted with splotches of red, drying to a rust color. My hands were tacky, but only on the palms.

"Come on, chickadee, let's get you cleaned up."

I obeyed Garcia silently, washing my hands and splashing my face with water that felt boiling hot on my cold and numb skin. I removed my stained shirt and accepted the bright purple sweater Garcia handed me.

"Rachel?"

Garcia was watching me carefully, concern showing from her eyes even behind her cat's eye glasses. The fact that she had called me by my actual name only showed how concerned she was. But I couldn't do anything other than stare at her blankly, still numb. She pursed her lips, brought me in close for a quick hug and then herded me out the door.

In the hall, Dad was waiting, wearing a clean shirt. With one swift glance, I knew he had already judged my state of mind. He raised both hands up to my face, cradling it gently, staring deep into my eyes. I don't know what he saw, but I couldn't muster up any more of a reaction than I had for Garcia.

"I'm so sorry, I am so, so sorry. It's my fault he came after you both. I should have stopped him. I failed."

Maybe I should have said something, but right then, I couldn't help but agree with him.

"I waited for you," I said quietly. "I answered his questions so you would have time to come and save us. I thought you would save us."

He flinched away from me as if burned and I heard Garcia gasp somewhere behind me. Before any of us could say anything else, Dr. Allenberg had returned.

"There's a room you could use," he explained. "This way."

Dad nodded his head in acknowledgment without tearing his gaze away from me. After a moment of awkward silence, he reached as if to take my hand, but then pulled back. He turned and walked away, following Dr. Allenberg. I remained still for a moment longer before forcing myself to walk after him.

It's not like I had anywhere else to go.

When I caught up with the two men, Garcia close behind me, I stopped in the doorway to the room in shock. All of the walls were covered in photographs of animals. Hunting animals, carnivores all. Predators.

"I've let security know you're here," Dr. Allenberg was saying as I tried to swallow with my mouth dry as sand. "I am so sorry for your loss."

Tiger, cobra, eagle. Claws and teeth and blood. A smiling face and a scalpel.

I was choking on air, like my lungs had forgotten how to breathe. The images faded to gray except the ones in my memory. Dad's and Garcia's voices blurred into the high-pitched ringing in my ears.

"Rachel! Rachel!"

Whether Dad or Garcia helped me to sit down or if my legs just gave out on me, I don't know. But soon Dad was kneeling in front of me, hands on my shoulders, telling me to match my breathing to his, just like every other time I'd had a panic attack.

"Please, Rachel, please. I've got you, I'm here. Please."

Slowly, slowly, I stopped gasping, feeling the oxygen enter steadily through my nose.

"Garcia, find a vending machine and get a soda, something with sugar," Dad ordered, never taking his eyes off mine.

Both she and Dr. Allenberg left; Dad and I were alone.

"I should have warned you," Dad told me, full of pain and guilt. "I knew something was wrong tonight, but I never thought…Your mother…"

I shook my head violently. "Stop," I burst out. "Just stop." She was gone and he couldn't fix that or explain it away. I didn't even want him to try.

Thank God Garcia came back alone with a can of Coke, bringing it over quickly and kneeling next to my dad in front of me. Dad popped it open and held it up to my mouth. I almost snatched it away from him, but my hands were still shaking. I drank a gulp, spilling some down my chin.

"One more sip," Dad instructed, holding the can to my lips again. "The sugar will help with the shock."

After the second drink, my hands steadied enough I could hold the can on my own. Seeing that I was recovering, Garcia got up and retrieved the files from her suitcase and her laptop.

"I grabbed everything in your office pertaining to the case," she said. She had chosen the seat that would give her the best view of me on the couch.

"I need to find him, Rae," Dad told me. "He'll go after others and hurt them."

"And kill them?" I asked.

"Yes."

Whatever I wanted to say to him, I could wait. I would have to since even then I saw Dad change from father and not-quite partner to agent and profiler. So I brought my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around my knees. There wasn't anything else I could do.

Dad walked around the table in the center of the room, further distancing himself from me. Until Frank was caught or killed, I knew I had lost my dad in addition to my mom.

Dad and Garcia began and for the first time in my life, I saw my father do what he did best. He thought like an unstoppable killer.

"This is hopeless, we don't even know Frank's surname," Garcia said flatly.

"We do know the only person to ever survive an abduction by Frank," Dad pointed out.

I took in a sudden mouthful of air, wondering if I would have to go through another cognitive interview, like I had when Reid had been missing and I had been the only person to talk to his abductor.

"Jane," Garcia answered.

Jane. Frank had mentioned that name when he had called Dad right after… And even earlier, Frank had told me that Dad had something of his, someone who meant the world to him. Was all of this about a single person?

"He fell in love with her," Garcia added.

"He's a psychopath, he's incapable of emotionally bonding with anyone," Dad argued. "Yet he was prepared to risk everything to have her."

It sounded like he was contradicting himself. Either he was a psychopath who couldn't love, or he loved a woman enough to do anything to get her back.

Other parts I didn't understand either. Like why Dad felt the need to talk to Garcia directly as if he was teaching a class or something. And I began to wonder, if Dad was here with Garcia, trying to find Frank, then what the hell was the rest of the team doing? I suddenly wanted Reid sitting next to me, telling me random facts about Coca Cola or aluminum. I wanted to see Hotch's grim face or Morgan's smile and winking eyes.

But there was only Dad, calmly analyzing Frank's actions as if Mom hadn't been killed earlier tonight and Garcia, keeping me in the corner of her eye as she brought up victim statistics on her laptop.

Really, the only thing that I caught onto was that they thought Frank had left this Jane alive because he thought of her as his mother. In that moment, I felt a surge of irrational and almost uncontrollable rage. Frank had taken my mom away from me, I wanted to do the same to him. If I was ever in the same room as her, I would hurt her, at least scream at her that it was her fault that Mom was dead.

And it was the thought of my mom that stopped me. She was a healer, a doctor, who wanted to make people better. She would never have hurt someone deliberately, no matter what. I couldn't believe myself. A few tears of shame trickled down my cheeks and I buried my head in my arms.

Sometime later, Hotch called, and I learned that the team was working just as hard as Dad and Garcia to find Frank. And I learned, they already knew where Jane was. Jane was telling them everything she knew about Frank, including his last name and where he lived. Frank Breitkoff from Manhattan.

Dad went still for a moment, then began speaking about the first time he had spoken with Frank, apparently in a diner in Nevada. "He's obsessed with facts, he mentioned Manhattan." Dad then went on to repeat the conversation verbatim. For a moment, I thought of Reid, wishing again that he was here. It's not like it would have made much a difference, and he would probably be working with Dad anyway if he was with us. But I just didn't want to hear about some woman being found dead in her apartment which was somehow important. I didn't care about the origin of Frank's name, even if it did tell me why Frank had asked about my own name and its meaning.

And I definitely didn't want to know that Frank's mother had been a prostitute. Something told me that someone, somewhere—and maybe even Frank himself—would point to that fact as the reason Frank turned into a psychopath. And that made my blood boil, that any one could actually think, "Oh, his mother was a whore, it's not his fault he was raised by her."

At school, most of the students were from middle class families and a little better. It was a public school, but one that was in a well-to-do district, walking a thin line between public and private education. I knew kids that came from the typical, white fence, nuclear families that were good kids, decent enough and stable enough, like Mark or Alicia. I knew others that were given everything and spoiled with it, like Jenny. Some had divorced parents and used it to gain attention and sympathy, but not Liz. And even kids like Michael, who has a crappy home life and doesn't let it get him down.

Sure, parents are vital parts of how we learn about the world, but they weren't everything.

I was interrupted from my mental tirade when Garcia's phone rang. She handed it to Dad right away.

"Who is this?" he asked.

I stood up and walked over to sit next to Garcia when I saw the look on his face. It was full of anguish.

"Of course I remember you, how could I ever forget? Tracy. Everything's going to be all right."

Suddenly, his face twisted into anger. I remembered how Frank had changed expressions like that, so quickly and suddenly. Dad was supposed to think like serial killers, I thought, not become like them.

"You son of a bitch," he swore quietly. "I swear to you I will find you and stop you."

After another moment, Dad put down the phone.

"I couldn't trace it," Garcia apologized. She stammered a little more as Dad grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, writing something down. "What do you want me to do?" she asked.

"Call Hotch," Dad ordered, handing her the paper. "Read him that, he'll know what to do."

I felt cold, watching as he took out his gun and checked it for ammo.

"What are you going to do?" Garcia asked.

"End this." He walked off without even looking at me.

I surged out of my seat and raced after him.

"Dad!"

Walking quickly, he had made it halfway down the hall before I shouted. He stopped, but didn't turn around or walk back, so I closed in on him.

"Rachel, I need to go," he said shortly, still avoiding looking at me.

I didn't actually know what I wanted to say, so I waited silently, just waiting for something from him. But I didn't even know what I wanted him to do or say. Finally, he did shift so that I could see his face and he could see mine.

"Right now, there is a little girl who is in Frank's hands," Dad told me in a flat tone of voice. "I have to save her."

Like I couldn't save your mother, went unspoken.

"Frank doesn't hurt children," I pointed out for some reason. I was living proof of that fact.

"But he does put them in harm's way," Dad argued. "Stay with Garcia and I will see you later."

This time, I let him walk away from me, no display of affection, no words of comfort. Abandoned as I felt, I was somehow unsurprised.

I went back to room and found Garcia snapping shut her cell phone and wiping at her face; she was scared, too. She looked up when she heard me walk in.

"Did he say where he was going?" she asked.

I shook my head. "What did he write down?"

"He thinks Frank left Tracy at his mother's apartment in Manhattan," Garcia explained.

I shrugged. "What do we do now?"

"Wait," she replied. "Frank said to meet him at Union Station at seven."

It was nearly two in the morning. I looked around again at all the pictures. "Do we have to wait here?" I asked in a small voice, hating how childish I sounded.

"Absolutely not," Garcia assured me and packed up immediately. She had been bothered by the exhibit as much as I was.

We saw no one on our way out and Garcia's car was parked in front where we had left it. I didn't even bother to think of how Dad had left. Despite my borrowed sweater, I shivered, remembering the blank and controlled expression on his face as he left me. God only knew what he was doing on his own. With next to no traffic in the early morning, Garcia drove us to the BAU, parking in the garage and then taking me by the hand to lead me upstairs. This time, we didn't bother with a visitor's pass and went straight for the bull pen's conference room.

There were a handful of agents present, all of them giving me unreadable looks. I only recognized Anderson out of them.

"There's a couch in your dad's office, honey," Garcia told me. "Why don't you get some sleep?"

I shook my head. "I can't sleep."

She let it go.

"Where are the others?" I asked.

"Reid and JJ went to Manhattan," Garcia answered. "Hotch is probably rounding up SWAT with Morgan and Prentiss." She gave me a long look. "Let's go hang out in my office, it's more comfortable."

I nodded without protest. One room was as good as any other at that point. Mom was—dead, Dad was gone, and the same man was responsible for both of my parents' positions. All I wanted, at least all I wanted that I thought I was going to get, was to just sit somewhere quiet until it was all over.

Of course I didn't get what I wanted. But in a way, I got what I had wanted earlier.

Before we got to Garcia's office, I noticed Prentiss down the hall, leading an older, blonde woman by the arm to a room marked, "Interview Room." And really, if Garcia hadn't frozen in her footsteps, I might not have put two and two together, but she did and I did.

"You!"

By the time Garcia thought to grab me, I was out of her reach and hurrying down the hall.

"He was looking for you," I accused the woman who had to be Jane. "He killed my mother just because you left him! If you hadn't been so stupidly in love with him in the first place, he would have been caught already!"

"Rachel!"

Strong arms wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me away as Prentiss hustled Jane into the room. After the door closed, I heard Jane screaming, counter-accusations or apologies, I just didn't care.

"Come on, let's go."

"I'm sorry, sir, she got away from me and I didn't think about us running into Jane…" Garcia was apologizing.

I sagged into Hotch's hold, feeling drained just from shouting for that short period of time. He half dragged, half carried me the rest of the way to Garcia's office. When we got there, Hotch firmly pressed me into a chair and knelt in front of me to meet my eyes.

"It's not her fault," he criticized me, gently for Hotch.

I looked down in shame. He was right, I knew that, but Jane was my only outlet. Hotch shook me slightly, forcing me to look at him. In his eyes, I saw admonishment, but also sympathy. And that was too much.

"It hurts," I whispered, swallowing the growing lump in my throat. "She's gone and Dad left and it hurts."

"I know."

The tears that had been burning at the backs of my eyes spilled out and I choked back a scream at the unfairness of it all.

"Why?" I demanded as Garcia shoved Hotch aside to pull me forward into a crushing and comforting hug. Why did Frank come after us? Why did he kill Mom? Why did Dad have to leave me alone when I needed him most? "Why?"

"I don't know, sweetheart," Garcia answered. She started to rock me back and forth while I kept crying. Hotch had left when Garcia took over and I was actually grateful for that. I felt like a child already.

After some immeasurable amount of time, I sniffed for the last time and started to pull away from the woman who had held me steadily despite the awkward position of kneeling on the floor. I slipped down to the floor next to her and began to wipe at my cheeks. Garcia reached around and behind her, handing me a tissue box. After going through what seemed like half the box, I tried to hand it back.

"Just keep it, chickadee," Garcia told me. "You okay here for a bit?"

I nodded hastily. I was taking up too much of her time, though she never gave that impression.

"I'm just going to unpack," Garcia explained. "Then how about we go to the locker room, get cleaned up, and find some sweats for you, okay?"

I didn't care one way or another, but I nodded again when it seemed like she was waiting for a response from me. A half hour later I was standing under a hot spray of water, washing away the grime and tears and the last traces of my mother's blood. I still didn't feel clean, but I got out anyway and wrapped up in a towel. I heard Garcia around the corner, blow drying her hair, but she had left me a pair of sweatpants, socks, and a long sleeved tee shirt. I wrapped my hair up and got dressed, ignoring the shudder that went through me to see "FBI" emblazoned on my chest.

If Dad hadn't been an agent…

Once we were both ready, Garcia took me back to her office, no detours this time. There was less then three hours before the deadline Frank had given, so I heard foot traffic outside the office increase. But even though I still couldn't sleep, I didn't want to pay attention any more. So I blocked out as much as I could, blanking out my mind as much as I could. But that wasn't so easy.

Had anyone called my brothers? I somehow remembered that Dad had said the police thought he had killed Mom, so they must have called John, Scott, and maybe Alan. But who would tell them about Frank? And no one would know at the cancer center either. Oh God, what about everyone at school? Would I have to tell Michael, Alicia, and Mark what had happened? I was fairly positive I wouldn't be able to keep repeating it.

My mother had been killed by a psychopath looking to punish my father but he left me alone. I could barely think it. And I definitely didn't have the guts to ask Garcia about telling people. I was only sixteen, it couldn't possibly be something people expected me to do.

Somehow the last hours slipped by but even though Hotch, Morgan, and Prentiss went out into the early morning crowds of Union Station, Garcia and I stayed back, guarded by Anderson and another agent. At first we could hear what was going on over Anderson's ear piece.

"Do you have something for me?"

His voice raised all the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck. Seeing my reaction, Garcia ordered Anderson to turn off the speaker. I didn't have the energy to argue with her, and really, I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the blow by blow.

"Just tell me if Dad shows up," I asked quietly.

Within minutes, Anderson nodded definitively. "He's here." He paused in uncertainty. "He's, he's talking about the victim."

Victim. Anderson only knew Mom as a victim now. I closed my eyes and since I didn't hear Anderson say anything else, Garcia must have motioned him to shut up. I was actually grateful. We sat in tense silence until Anderson swore.

"I think they just jumped in front of a train."

My head jerked up, shocked beyond words.

"No, no, Frank and Jane. They jumped in front of a train," Anderson hurried to assure me and I breathed a sigh of relief before I realized what that meant.

Frank was dead. The murderer who had brutally killed my mom was now dead. I had expected to feel better at this point, but all I felt was bitter sadness and anger, and finally exhaustion. With the threat gone, Garcia and I moved to wait inside, Anderson still hovering in his guard capacity any way.

When I first saw Dad, I waited to see if he was still that locked-down, impersonal agent who had just left me behind. All I saw was exhaustion to mirror my own. He walked up to me and pulled me into his arms, both of us leaning against the other equally. We stood there until Hotch interrupted gently with his cell phone.

I guessed that Dad had been right about the little girl, Tracy, and that Reid and JJ had found her safe and sound based on the call. Dad hung up shortly and turned to me.

"Let's go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it folks, the end of Rachel's life as she knows it. Everything changes now, and I do mean just about everything.
> 
> Like with Revelations, I tried to not repeat the episode verbatim because I figure, if you want to know the exact dialogue, go watch the actual episode. So, I tried to incorporate Rachel into the flow of the scene without needless repetition. Now, some of her comments are my own, like "of all rooms to be in when analyzing Frank, it had to be that room?" And I also tried to always view things through a guilt-stricken, shocked, mourning, teenaged perspective. Having never gone through anything as harrowing as losing a parent, let alone to a serial killer, and be present for the murder, I'm totally outside my personal realm of experience. I hope I did an adequate job.
> 
> Now, there are only two more chapters to go for this movement. Yes, it's fewer chapters than previously, but I think the word count evens out between the two. 
> 
> Cantoris


	12. Requiem

Requiem-or Requiem Mass, translated as "Mass for the Dead"; used to commemorate the soul(s) of deceased person(s) and often set to music by various composers such as Mozart, Schubert, and Faure

My mother was dead.

Horrible as that thought was, it kept repeating itself in my mind, waking and sleeping. Not that I was doing much sleeping. It had only been a week since I had answered the front door and found a serial killer with over a hundred victims to his name waiting for me. Eight days, seventeen hours, and thirty three minutes.

I was home again, though that hadn't happened until five days ago. It had taken that long for crime scene techs to be done and for the cleaners to finish. I had stayed at Dad's apartment with him, but now he was sleeping on the living room couch in the house. I didn't want to stay, but Dad said it was only until the end of the school year. He didn't want to disrupt me more than I had been already. Riiight.

After another restless night, I was curled up on the couch, opposite the folded blankets Dad was using. Hannah lay on my chest, right between my breasts so that her face tucked up under my chin. She purred and kneaded my collarbone, remaining with me even though Dad was at the dining room table.

I flinched at the doorbell, even though I knew we were expecting company. Even though Hannah was now tolerating Dad's presence, she still jumped off me to go hide in the staircase. I let Dad beat me to the door, noticing that he briefly touched the gun strapped to his side before pulling his sweater over it. I remembered what he had been like two years ago after Boston with his PTSD. Now I was feeling it, too.

It didn't matter that it was only my brother, John, and his wife, Kat, at the door and that we knew they were coming. Our greetings were subdued; Dad shook hands with John and Kat, I got quick hugs.

"Coffee?" Dad asked, gesturing them to the dining room table where he had piles of documents and files spread out.

"Please," Kat asked. "We had turbulence flying out and didn't get much sleep."

"Scott should be here in a half hour," John said. "I wanted to make sure we were here before him."

Dad didn't look surprised to hear that, I know I wasn't. Scott has hated my dad all my life, blaming him for Mom's divorce even though that wasn't true. John was more pragmatic.

"And Alan's flight doesn't get in until this afternoon," John continued. "But he said to go ahead and get started without him."

Dad, John, and Kat all sat at the table with their cups of coffee, adding cream and sugar as they pleased while I returned to my spot on the couch. Dad gestured to one pile of paper.

"That's the paperwork from the church for tomorrow. We just need to approve what we've already laid out and call the priest tonight to confirm," he explained.

"And these are the legal documents?" John asked, pointing to the files. "I think we can get the gist of it now and wait for Scott to translate the technical stuff."

John was an architect, but Scott was a lawyer.

"I thought I would go in her room and start packing," Kat offered. "Unless you or Rachel want to go through things first?"

Kat looked over at me to include me in the conversation. She was pretty good at that on the few occasions we were all together. Even John still had the tendency to dismiss me as a child.

I shook my head. "I don't want to go in there."

I hadn't been back in Mom's bedroom since I had seen her laid out and bleeding on her bed. Even though Dad told me everything was cleaned, I would always remember.

Kat exchanged a look with Dad and nodded. "Of course, sweetie. I'll organize everything and then you can go through it later, okay?"

John looked up from the papers he was holding. "Thanks, hon. I think that would be best."

I didn't jump the next time the doorbell rang, but I saw Dad still checked his side holster before answering the door. Since it was Scott, as expected, Dad being armed was probably an insurance policy. At least Scott's hoity and condescending fiancée, Shannon, hadn't come with him.

Kat excused herself to get started with Mom's things, leaving Dad, John, and Scott at the table. Once the funeral arrangements were discussed and confirmed, the arguments started with everything else.

"Mom didn't leave provision for what to do with the house or her car," Scott argued. "We should sell them both and split the proceeds."

"Jason and Rachel might want to stay," John pointed out.

Dad had mostly stayed out of the argument until then. He gave John a grateful smile and replied, "No, we won't be staying here, but thank you for the consideration. Also, Rachel will need a car for herself whenever I'm not around."

Hearing that Dad would be going back to work in the field, leaving me alone whenever he was out on a case was not surprising. But…

"I don't want Mom's car," I said quietly from the couch. It was her car and always would be in my mind. I couldn't possibly drive it and call it my own. All three men turned around and looked at me before turning back to each other.

Scott scoffed at Dad but then focused John. "Fine. Then we'll go with my plan."

"Mom's life insurance we'll split equally between the four of us," John said firmly. "I have no problem with that or doing the same with her pension and other policies. But I think any money from the house or car should be put aside for Rachel alone."

Scott didn't even look around at me, but then, he always ignored me. "Why should she get more than any of us?"

John so far had managed to keep his temper, but now his voice began to rise. "Because that's what Mom would have wanted! Damn it, Scott. And we've already gotten more than she has, like college, or money towards both of our houses."

Scott wasn't backing down easily. "Let him take care of her," he said, jerking his head at Dad. "It's his fault Mom's dead!"

Both of my brothers jumped out of their chairs and stood toe to toe. Scott was actually an inch and a half taller, but John was more solid. Dad remained silent, a hand over his face to hide his expression from them both. Or maybe he just didn't know what to say that wouldn't make things worse.

I didn't know either. There has always been a disconnect between me and all of my brothers. John was kind, but he was gone by the time I was in kindergarten. Scott resented my very existence, and Alan spends more time abroad than at home. I knew Reid better than any of them, so I wasn't sure my opinion would be listened to. The age difference didn't help either. I was the baby, literally, to them.

"Mom would be ashamed of you for saying that," John said tightly. "You aren't a teenager any more, and I know you've been told why Mom and Dad split. So get over it and your own self and actually think about someone other than yourself for the first time in your life."

For a long moment, nothing happened and I was certain that Scott would actually punch John. But he didn't, he just turned away without conceding anything to go to the kitchen for another cup of coffee.

"I talked with Alan before his flight left and he agrees with me," John continued when Scott got back. "It's only fair that Rachel get the same kind of support that each of us did, even if Mom isn't around any more to give it."

John's voice may have hitched on the last sentence, but other than that, his tone was steely.

"Fine, consider me out voted," Scott snapped.

The rest of the conversation was monotonous and I found myself drifting off. Since I wasn't always sleeping at night, I found I was falling asleep randomly during the day. But even then, I couldn't stay asleep for longer than a few hours. Sometimes I dreamed, sometimes I didn't. The dreams I remembered were chaotic and fragmented. I was almost grateful that I didn't remember them with much clarity.

When I woke up, John and Scott were helping Kat move boxes out of Mom's room.

"We'll save the office and all of Mom's text books for Alan to look through first," John was saying.

"We can get a tax write-off by donating the clothes," Scott added.

Kat was the one who noticed I was awake. When she put her box down, she went to another and pulled out a black case the size of a paperback book.

"I found this in the back of a drawer," she explained. "I think your mom was saving it for your next birthday or something."

I opened the case and found a pearl necklace. It wasn't a traditional string of cultured pearls, but rather a variety of white, peach, and pale pink colored freshwater pearls, with a tiny copper bead in between each one. I knew Mom had strung it herself just by looking. I closed the case before I could start to cry.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

"We can go through her jewelry later to see what you want to keep."

Eventually, Alan arrived by cab from the airport, dressed in his usual baggy khaki pants, tee shirt, and worn button down cotton shirt and hiking boots. He was a doctor, like Mom, but worked for Doctors Without Borders, typically in Africa and was responsible for my exotic postcard collection. Where John was responsible and Scott selfish, Alan was empathetic. He greeted both of our brothers with long hugs—even though neither of them are really into it—kissed Kat's cheek, and shook Dad's hand without any animosity (Scott) or reservation (John).

Alan hugged me last, crying without shame. "I'm a wreck," he apologized. "I can't imagine what it's been like for you."

I cried into his shoulder for a bit, but not as long as I could have. I'd been crying on my own all week because I hadn't wanted Dad to see me. He got this pained expression on his face whenever he saw me as it was. I wondered if he agreed with Scott, that it was his fault Mom was dead. Sometimes, I wondered if that was what I thought.

Scott excused himself soon after that, saying that Shannon was waiting for him at the hotel. I wasn't sorry to seem him go.

"I thought I would make dinner," Dad told the others. "You are all welcome to stay."

"I'm famished," Alan replied with a weary smile.

"That sounds wonderful, thank you," Kat said.

Dad nodded. "Rae, would you like to help?"

I got up mostly because I was tired of sitting as I had been all day. Dad and I hadn't cooked at all in the past week. In addition to the casseroles that had been dropped off the previous week, we'd been living on take out and sandwiches, just too sad or tired to do anything more than that. I could have thought that us cooking that night was an attempt to go back to normal, but it didn't feel like normal. Not even close. Normal was on a permanent vacation.

I took the largest pot out and filled it with water, set it on a burner, and put the flame on while Dad got the ground beef out of the fridge and the jar of sauce from the pantry. Alan, John, and Kat followed us to the kitchen and started to catch up and John told Alan all that had been talked about during the day.

"About Mom's car," John said, looking at me and Dad. "We've been thinking of upgrading, so what if we trade the Suburban for Kat's Corolla? Have them both appraised and we'll pay cash for the price difference."

I shrugged my response and Dad said we would think on it and get back to him.

Kat was talking about some manuscript she was working on when the smell of the meat hit my nose like a sledge hammer. Looking at it shouldn't have been anything surprising, but the red color flashed in my mind and I was suddenly back in Mom's office, tied to a chair and looking at her blood covered body. I had been able to see into her chest after Frank had cut it open and pulled out one of her rib bones.

"Rachel?"

My eyes popped open—had I closed them?—and my vision went from black to blurry. Four faces were watching me with concern but they were fuzzy. My ears roared and I felt like I wasn't in my body any more. At least until my stomach decided to heave.

I ran for the bathroom and barely made it to the toilet, throwing up that day's sandwich and yogurt and then plain acid after that so much that I felt like I was choking. I began crying on top of that, making breathing nearly impossible.

Large, calloused hands swept my hair away from my face and then brought a cool, damp washcloth over it, wiping the tears, snot, and vomit away. Dad propped me up against him, holding me as I shook and hiccupped. I had to lurch two more times to the toilet before I felt like I could safely stand up.

"I'm not very hungry any more," I said quietly.

I felt and heard Dad sigh behind me. "You need to eat something, Rae. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."

Right. I was well aware of that fact.

"Just pasta, no sauce," I conceded.

"No sauce," Dad agreed.

Dad kept a possessive and protective hand on my shoulder when we walked out and back to the kitchen. We found that John was gone, Kat was already adding the linguine to the boiling water, and Alan was rummaging in the refrigerator.

"There's some cream and cheese here," Alan was saying. "Alfredo it is."

When he noticed we were back, Alan smiled and handed me a glass of ginger ale that had been waiting on the counter.

"Doctor's orders," he said with a small smile and then frowned. Any time I had been sick, it's what Mom would always say. She must have with the boys, too.

I took the glass and sipped slowly.

"John took out the garbage right away," Kat explained.

The meat was no where in sight and I sighed in relief but wondered how they had known what the problem was.

Alan kissed my cheek before joining Kat at the stove top with another pan that he had found. Dad sat me down on one of the kitchen bar stools at the island counter, standing just behind me. John said nothing when he returned and just picked up the conversation where it had been left off.

Dinner was a fairly quiet affair. Dad and I did the dishes while John and Kat started making a list of the boxes in the hallway. Alan excused himself to Mom's office to go through all her medical texts and papers for anything he would want to keep. Kat and I sat down and went through some of Mom's personal things item by item so I could pick out what I wanted to keep before Kat made her choices. The rest we would her friends look through and then donate whatever was left.

Of her jewelry, I only kept the gold chain that had been a gift from Dad when they were still in college, the pink cameo necklace on a silk cord that I had always liked, and the opal ring that had been passed down through the female members of Mom's family for as long as anyone could remember. I saved the yellow and green afghan that had been made by one of her friends the year I was born and the white porcelain bowl she had made herself in high school. Other things I wanted to keep, but we packed into separate boxes.

When I was done, I took an extra pad of paper to Alan in case he wanted to make a list of anything. Alan was the closest to my age, only ten years older than I was, so I knew him slightly better than John or Scott who had gone off to college early enough for me to have mostly fuzzy memories or vague ones from their visits home.

"Some of these I'll donate to the organization itself," Alan told me. "The others I'll put in storage for myself if I ever end up with a more permanent place to live."

"You won't stay now?" I found myself asking. I'm not sure why.

Alan sighed and thought for a moment before answering. "There's still a lot I want to do over there before I get boring and work out of an office." Alan was the adventurer of the family. "And I think Mom would want me to keep going back."

I nodded. She had always been proud of all her sons, but not only had Alan followed in her medical footsteps, but he was also helping a lot of people rather than try to make a lot of money.

Before I left, Alan grabbed my hand.

"In my first year in Mali, we were called out to a village that had been hit by bandits. Over half the men had been killed, those that survived were severely wounded and a third of the women had been attacked as well. It was my first time treating that many wounded people."

I stared at him, wondering why he suddenly sounded like Dad.

"I went on auto-pilot along with the five other doctors I was with. It wasn't until we were having breakfast the next morning, when I smelled the bacon cooking, that I got sick."

I suddenly understood what he was telling me. Alan had been looking out the window as he told me his story, but now he met my eyes.

"It was horrible, wasn't it?" he asked. "For everything that I've seen that you haven't, I didn't see Mom the way you did."

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "I can't stop seeing it sometimes."

Alan gathered me up in his arms and rubbed my back. I was cried out at that point, so I just hugged back.

After Alan, John, and Kat left, Dad and I said our good nights and I went downstairs to my room. Hannah was waiting for me there after I changed into a long night shirt and crawled into bed. Unable to sleep now due to my mid-day nap, I carried my computer over and signed online.

Michael was also online.

Tarzan007: hey

SongbirdG: hey

Tarzan007: how was it with the brothers?

SongbirdG: as well as expected. arguing, posturing, eventual agreement

Tarzan007: glad I'm an only child

Tarzan007: Leo's letting me off early tom.

Tarzan007: if u want me there

SongbirdG: I need you there, plz

Tarzan007: and ur dad?

SongbirdG: don't care

We messaged back and forth for another hour as Michael filled me in on I had missed at school this week and what was being said about me. All of the teachers were sympathetic of course, like most of the other students. A handful like Jenny Theile and Ashley Martin were making snide comments about how Dad couldn't be that good of an FBI agent to let a serial killer get to Mom. I wasn't surprised. What did surprise me was that Alicia was now hanging out with those girls more often.

Michael informed me that Mark had even come up to him to ask how I was doing. I felt bad that I hadn't talked with him, but I just wasn't ready yet. Maybe after the funeral was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is the penultimate chapter (second to the last). Upcoming, we have the funeral itself which was close to one of the most difficult things I have ever accomplished. It didn't help that I sang at a funeral the same week I was writing it and that it was Mother's Day. Brownie points to me for not damaging my laptop with salt water, believe me.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks again, everyone, Cantoris


	13. Requiem, Part Two

Requiem, continued

I slept on and off during the night, thankfully without dreaming. Dad was awake when I got upstairs the next morning, already reading the morning paper with a cup of coffee, but still dressed in jeans and a sweater.

"Do you want a cup of tea?"

I shook my head. "I think I'm going to need coffee today."

Dad nodded and followed me into the kitchen as I got a mug and filled it before adding a splash of vanilla cream and sugar. I had coffee like this on very rare occasions. Normally, I was a mocha or latte girl when I didn't just drink tea or hot chocolate. I felt a small jolt from the caffeine, so after I slowly ate a bowl of cereal, forcing down every bite, I got another cup of coffee.

When I was done, I took a shower, waking up further. I took the time to blow dry and straighten out my hair. I pulled up half into a barrette. From my closet, I took out a knee-length black skirt and a black blouse which I tucked into the skirt and added a belt. I couldn't bring myself to wear the pearl necklace Kat had found from Mom, but I wore the diamond earrings she had given me for my confirmation and the gold chain she said Dad had given her back in college. I did put on the opal ring which I promised myself I wouldn't ever take off. I did my make-up, slipped into my black heels and walked back upstairs.

Dad was waiting for me, dressed in black pants, a dark gray shirt, and matching suit jacket, no tie. He swept his fingers over the gold chain, but didn't say anything. I made sure I had my flute case and music and then we drove in silence to the church, arriving around noon. Reverend Jason Councell met us at the door, giving us his condolences once again before guiding us to the side room where we could gather as a family before the service began in another two hours. There were cold cuts and vegetable and fruit trays set up on a side table along with plush arm chairs and couches.

I went over in my head what would happen next. After the funeral, we would go to the large hall in the church for the reception. After that, Dad and I would head back to spend my last night at home before I moved into his apartment with him. I would take a few days to get settled before returning to school to finish out the year. Dad had heard from the principal that I wouldn't have to take finals this year (apparently there was some byline about family tragedy) but that I should still attend the rest of the year.

It was after that that scared me. Dad had cleared out his spare room for me, but I had never lived with him before. I wouldn't be able to play my music as loudly as I wanted. He probably wouldn't allow me to go out with friends or with Mark as often as Mom had. And Hannah would have to get used to a new environment just as much as I would.

But first, I had to get through the funeral. Soon, my brothers were there with Kat and Shannon. Their father, Jim Jacobs, had come as well. He and Dad shook hands amiably enough, but after that, they didn't approach each other. Mom didn't have brothers or sisters, her parents were already dead, and none of her aunts or uncles had been able to come. We were a small and disjointed family.

When it was time, an usher came and led us into the church where everyone else was already seated. The organist was playing Gabriel's Ave, one of Mom's favorite songs. The church was decorated with pink and purple tulips, Mom's favorites, with bunches of green ferns. White candles burned on the altar, placed over a pristine white cloth. Light flooded the chapel in beams of colored bands, tinted by the stained glass windows.

I saw probably half the staff of Mom's cancer center and a few of her other friends from California. I saw Alicia and Mark each there with their parents along with some other kids I knew from band and orchestra or other classes like Liz Peterson and Sophia Carson. I recognized some people from the Jacobs' side of the family, most likely there to support John, Alan, and Scott.

Then, sitting in one row altogether, there was the BAU contingent. Hotch with Haley, Garcia and Morgan, Reid, Prentiss and JJ. Sitting next to them were some other, more official looking people that I assumed were FBI higher-ups. Passing them down the aisle, I saw Garcia was teary eyed already and clutching Morgan's hand. Hotch nodded grimly while Haley smiled sadly. Reid gave me his little half hesitant hand wave.

I think John had worked our procession so that Jim, Scott, and Shannon walked into the front row first, followed by himself, Kat, and Alan, leaving me and Dad on the inside with the aisle. When the organist finished, he looked out and smiled at me to come forward. With one last hand squeeze each from Dad and Alan, I stood up, flute in one hand and approached the music stand set up a few feet away.

I was really the only musician in my family, but Mom had always loved to hear me play. When Dad and John had been talking by phone about the arrangements, they had both asked me if I felt like I could play for this. And even as I now felt sick to my stomach, wondering if I could pull this off without breaking down, I knew that I had to do it. It was the only thing I felt I could give my mother, music in the air that would hopefully reach her, wherever she was.

So, earlier in the week, while Dad met with Reverend Councell, I was sitting with the organist, Vincent Allison, helping me to choose what to play. Mr. Allison was a lifelong church musician who had played at funerals for over twenty years. He had been kind with me, looking over my choices and discussing them with me as an equal. It was he who had also asked me what other music Mom had liked.

Standing in front of my family and scores of other people, I touched the music stand, pretending to settle my music, but really steeling my nerves. I heard Mr. Allison play an A and I tuned quietly and quickly. Finally, I closed my eyes a moment, ignoring how the silence felt like it was pressing down on me, took a deep breath, and blew my first note.

My eyes followed the music of Bach's Air in G, and my mouth and fingers brought the notes to life. It wasn't an easy piece to play, full of long notes and sustained phrases, but it was tranquil, hopefully giving my mother the peace she hadn't had in death. I finished my final note and stepped back from the music stand, almost in surprise that I was done. There was no applause, but when I looked out at the gathered people, I saw tears and smiles, nods of encouragement and approval. To the side, Mr. Allison gave me his own nod of acknowledgement, one musician to another. I nodded my thanks to him.

I returned to my seat, accepting Dad's arm around my shoulder and Alan's kiss on my cheek. His eyes were already shimmering. John and Kat each reached out across Alan to touch my hand or face, each recognizing my gift. Scott was too far away, but I wasn't expecting anything from him.

Besides, Scott was getting up to read the gospel story of Lazarus, which people always remember for the man's resurrection and often forget that while he was thought to be dead, his sisters mourned him. After that, we sang Ye watchers and ye holy ones. For the remembrances, Sonia Vargas spoke about Mom's career and her unending support of her patients and coworkers. John spoke about Mom as our mother, telling stories about "Doctor's orders" and how she loved to hand make birthday and Christmas gifts. Reverend Councell gave his homily, but while Mom was Christian, we didn't attend church regularly because of her schedule so it wasn't all that personal.

The organ played again as just our immediate family was led out by the priest into the side garden where the ashes would be interred. Alan carried the urn and held it while a landscaper dug a small hole beneath the brass plate already mounted on the brick wall, surrounded with ivy. The plate read: Sarah McKinnon Jacobs; April 7, 1952-May 14, 2007; Devoted Mother and Healer.

Scott, Shannon, and Jim went back to wait inside, but Dad, Kat and I stayed to watch John and Alan take turns to fill in the small hole. They finished quickly, and each of us remained still, saying our own private prayers. I felt the coffee churn in my stomach unpleasantly and a few tears leaked down my face silently.

We went back inside and formed a receiving line in the parish hall where the reception was already laid out. I was then hugged by just about everyone in the building down the line. Almost everyone commented on how beautifully I had played. I recognized most of Mom's co-workers from whenever Mom would talk about them. Alicia and her parents hurried through; I could tell that Alicia felt awkward around me but I wasn't sure if I wanted to do anything to change it.

It was awkward for me when Mark came up to me while his parents talked with Dad.

"I'm really sorry, Rachel," he said, hugging me and kissing my cheek.

"I'm sorry, too," I whispered. "I didn't mean to ignore you…"

"It's okay," he assured me. "I get it. I'll see you in school this week, right?"

"Yeah, in a few days."

"Okay. I'll see you then. And you call me, if you want to talk or something."

I could only nod to that. Maybe it wasn't a good sign that I felt like I couldn't talk to Mark about what had happened at all, but I just couldn't bring myself to think too hard about it.

By then, all of the BAU was up to me. I was last in line, so they had all already greeted Dad first.

"How're you doing, chickadee?" Garcia asked me, giving me one of her fabulous, suffocating hugs.

"Kind of numb," I answered honestly.

"I remember," she said. "You call me, whenever you feel like you're ready to talk, okay?"

Talking to Garcia seemed more likely than anyone else so I nodded and then accepted a hug from Morgan and then Prentiss and JJ. After them came Reid, who also surprisingly hugged me. It was probably only the second time Reid had ever touched me that much.

"You'll look after Dad at work, right?" I asked.

Reid smiled uncertainly. "As much as he'll let us."

"He's out of the field for a few months," Morgan told me. "No traveling until he signs up for it again."

Sadly, I figured he would return by the time the next school year started. Before I could ask anything else, all of them backed off by some unspoken signal. I looked sideways and saw that Dad was talking with Hotch and another woman, older, blonde, and dressed impeccably with a slightly cool expression on her face. Haley was standing slightly behind Hotch. Sensing my attention, Dad bought a hand up to my shoulder.

"Rachel, this is Section Chief Erin Strauss. Erin, my daughter, Rachel."

"Rachel. I'm so sorry for your loss. I know this must be a difficult time for you."

There was some genuine sympathy in there, but it was in pretty frosty tones. I settled for nodding, and then accepting a hug from Haley when she stepped up to see me.

Section Chief Erin Strauss left soon after that, but from the tense looks of the teams' faces, Hotch's set jaw, and Dad's slight frown, I knew she was not liked or very respected. Later, I might ask about her. But not right then.

There were more people in line, but Prentiss and JJ had snuck away and returned with glasses of water for Dad and me and a plate with food. I downed the water in one go and ate whatever was on the plate without really tasting it. It was another fifteen minutes before the receiving line was finished, freeing my family to split off as we all pleased. I know I should have stuck around and stayed among the others, but I made a beeline for the outer door and the garden.

It wasn't the same garden where Mom and countless other people were memorialized with brass plaques, but it was private and quiet and green. She had loved to garden on her days off. I sat on a well-placed bench, ankles crossed with my hands propped on the bench at my sides and my head hanging low. Then, I let the days' emotions flood out, tears dropping onto my lap and dampening my skirt. I suddenly wanted to be home with my cat and my things, dressed in sweatpants and a tank top. I was tired of being on display for people, playing the tragic role of the motherless daughter who had seen her murdered. And it would be worse, I knew, when I returned to school. I could already hear the halls filled with whispers and gossip.

Someone came to sit next to me; I looked up and saw Michael, dressed in black jeans and a black collared shirt tucked in. He was probably the only person I wouldn't have sent away at that moment. He didn't say anything as he wiped at my face with the cuff of his sleeve or as I leaned against him with my head on his shoulder. He just wrapped an arm around me and tucked my head under his chin, rocking me ever so slightly.

We sat for an immeasurable amount of time until I broke the silence. "I didn't see you in there."

He sighed. "I was hiding in the back."

I snorted in a quick burst of laughter.

"Drummer," I teased him.

"Flute diva," he teased back.

We lapsed back into silence before Michael released me to turn to his other side, retrieving his goods: two bottles of Coke and a plate full of food.

"With all the FBI around, I figured I shouldn't try to grab anything stronger," Michael commented. Even after studying his face, I couldn't tell if he was kidding or not.

Either way, I sipped the Coke and shared the food with him. I managed to eat the cucumber sandwich and mini quiches, but I didn't touch the roast beef and turkey roll up or the sweet and sour meatballs, so Michael ate those. He had also brought along a heaping bowl of strawberries with whipped cream which I polished off on my own. I did split the brownie in half for us both.

It could have been like any other meal we had shared at school, out on the lawn or in one of the practice rooms. Could have been, but wasn't.

"What time is it?" I asked, not wearing a watch myself.

"Three thirty," Michael answered. "Or close enough to it."

I'd been away long enough then. Actually, I was surprised no one else had come out looking for me.

"I'll see you back in, and then I'm off," Michael told me.

I knew better than to think he was abandoning me. Michael was just avoiding Dad who still wasn't happy with our friendship. There was a reason I would only talk with him by phone or IM after I had gone down to my room. I knew that was one thing that would have to be changed once I had moved into Dad's apartment.

I surprised us both by kissing Michael on the cheek when we reached the door. But after the shock wore off, Michael pulled me in for a hug, kissed my forehead, and then released me. I waited until he was left through the garden gate before I walked back inside.

Immediately, Garcia and Alan found me, asking where I had been, how I was doing. I fended them off with vague answers and then settled into the chair they chose where Dad, Reid, Morgan, and Prentiss were seated.

It was another hour before Dad and I left after about half of the others had already gone. At home, I changed clothes and then packed what was left in my room, save for clothes for the next day and basic toiletries. The movers would arrive in the morning, taking the last of my boxes of possessions, my desk, and the bookshelves that would fit in my new room. The bed I would have to leave behind as there was only room for a twin at Dad's apartment.

I wasn't hungry for dinner, so I just remained down in my room, cuddled with Hannah for the rest of the evening. Dad checked in on me around eight and said good night. He looked like he had more to say, but ended up not saying whatever it was.

I went to sleep, dry-eyed and feeling hollow. My mother was dead and gone. I still had Dad, Alan and John, Reid and Garcia, Michael. But that night, I felt alone as I never had before in my life. Nothing in my life would ever be the same, could never be the same.

My mother was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want to say a lot here, because I know (hope) that everyone just wants a second to recover from the emotional angst. So, I will only promise that Rachel's life will get better, but not right away for realism and character development. I know there are still some big questions that have yet to be addressed, so I counsel patience. It wouldn't be as fun if I just came out and gave straight answers, now would it?
> 
>  
> 
> Cantoris

**Author's Note:**

> We all know some bad stuff is coming up. I have tried to inject as much humor and levity into appropriate moments but I'm telling you all now, this movement does not end on a happy note. And then we all know that things don't exactly come up sunshine and roses after that. Well, we'll deal with that when we come to it. In the meantime, just be aware that there are some topics I will deliberately gloss over not because I necessarily want to, but because at sixteen, Rachel would be sheltered from some of them.
> 
> But in lighter news, I think there are some good moments coming up and I hope you all enjoy them. So, happy reading, and thanks for coming back for more!
> 
> Cantoris


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